


Miscommunication

by thedemonhammer



Series: Hope for the Best, Prepare for the Worst [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien is fed up, Chloé misinterprets things, F/M, Identity Reveal, kwami can be used like phones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:45:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedemonhammer/pseuds/thedemonhammer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was how Chat Noir’s world ended: being outed as the hero of Paris by the class bully, who could barely finish a project on her own, but had somehow managed to excel at deductive reasoning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Welcome to the first fan fiction I have written for the Miraculous Ladybug fandom. This is the first part in a series that will hopefully be ready in time for Miraculous March 2016 (http://miraculous-kwami.tumblr.com). Thank you all, and I do hope that you enjoy what will come next!

Chloé slammed her hand down on his desk, startling Adrien from his daydream of a lithe girl in a red and black spotted jumpsuit. Her lips were drawn into a fierce scowl, eyeshadowed eyes flashing. “Is it true?”

Adrien blinked. “Is _what_ true?”

“You and Chat Noir.”

Adrien’s heart came to a grinding stop. Until this point, no one in class had been paying attention to him. The lunch break had just begun, so students had either exited the classroom to grab something to eat or hurried away to talk to their friends in other classes.

Chloé’s question snagged the attention of the several students who’d lingered in the classroom. Alya ceased tittering on about the newest post on her Ladyblog. Adrien could feel her dark eyes boring a hole in his back.

His mouth tasted like metal. “M—me and Chat Noir?”

“You heard me,” Chloé hissed.

Adrien felt more eyes on him now. He suppressed the urge to shudder. “W—what about him?”

“Don’t play dumb!”

All other conversation had lapsed into stunned silence. Adrien was thankful Nino had gone to the cafeteria to grab himself a sandwich. He didn’t know if he could handle the odd looks his best friend would have certainly been giving him. As it was, he could hardly stand the fact that everyone else in the classroom was staring at him, too.

Too many questions rose in his throat, the first being: _How?_ How the hell did Chloé know? How had bratty, stuck-up, self-centered Chloé figured out his identity before his intelligent, brave, selfless teammate could?

How was he going to explain it, if Chloé had learned the truth? He couldn’t even begin to imagine what the rest of the class would do. Their eyes were searing holes into his spine; he wondered if there would be singe marks on his jacket if he were to look.

He heard Alya whisper something to Marinette, but it was too low to hear. Marinette didn’t respond, and Adrien could only imagine her reaction.

She’d interacted with him both as Adrien and as Chat Noir. She’d grown better at conversing with him when he was Adrien in the past few weeks, and she seemed to have no problems talking to him when he was Chat Noir. He found both aspects of her endearing, though he was thankful she was finally working up the courage to carry out a conversation with him when he wasn’t sporting cat ears and a tail.

Chloé’s lip-glossed mouth started forming words, and Adrien barely heard them through the low thrumming battering around in his skull like trapped butterflies.

“Are you…”

_Oh my God, this is the end_. This was how Chat Noir’s world ended: being outed as the hero of Paris by the class bully, who could barely finish a project on her own, but had somehow managed to excel at deductive reasoning.

“... _dating_ Chat Noir?”

All side conversation stopped as if she'd fired a gun at the ceiling.

_That_ was not what Adrien was expecting to hear. Chloé’s words echoed over and over in his head, but no matter how many times he went over them, he couldn’t seem to process the question he’d been asked.

He stared at Chloé. Blinked. Opened his mouth to respond. Closed it. Shook his head, not fully comprehending, and then opened his mouth again. All that emerged was a meek, “Huh?”

“Are you dating Chat Noir?” Chloé repeated, enunciating every syllable with a firm thwack on the table.

Adrien let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Chloé,” he sighed, suddenly aware just how out of breath he sounded, “you’re being ridiculous. Chat Noir is...a friend.”

Her eyes went wide. “You _know_ him?”

“Of course I do!” Adrien said, exasperated. “Everyone in Paris knows him!”

As Chloé continued to glare at him, Adrien realized he could have lied and said that he knew nothing about Chat Noir. He was one of the heroes of Paris, and that was it. But Chloé obviously had a reason to assume he and Chat Noir were...in a relationship...and shutting her down with the “ _just friends_ ” statement seemed to be the best he could come up with.

“So, you’re friends with him?” Chloé wrinkled her nose. “Is that why he was going into your bedroom last night?”

“He was looking for information,” Adrien said quickly. He was impressed with how quickly the lie came forth. “Akuma stuff. One of my father’s business associates has been acting odd lately, and he wanted to know if I knew anything.”

“So he came into your room at eleven o’clock at night?”

Adrien shrugged and did his best to look innocent. “Superhero time clock?”

Chloé exhaled through her nose.

“I always thought Ladybug and Chat Noir were a thing,” Alya mused aloud.

Behind him, Marinette made a stifled, squawking sound.

Adrien bit back a startled laugh. He’d once lied to someone about being in a relationship with Ladybug. It hadn't ended well—resulting in an akuma attack and a case of mistaken identity. He continued to flirt with her, tease her and joke about a love that didn’t exist, but if he was asked about it, he and Ladybug were teammates.

“I don’t think they are,” Adrien said, trying his hardest to sound indifferent. “I’ve never—I mean, Chat Noir’s never said anything to me about it, so I don’t think—”

“You talk to him about relationship stuff?” Chloé barked.

“We’re _friends_ , Chloé,” Adrien exhaled. “Of course we do.”

“And your _friends_ just come into your bedroom at all hours of the night, then?”

“Nino has!” Adrien retorted, fed up with the whole thing. “And besides, how do you even know about that?”

“I have my sources,” Chloé said with an indignant sniff.

“Chloé’s dad thought he saw Chat Noir lurking around near your house last night on his way home,” Sabrina offered.

“Sabrina!” Chloé shrilled.

Adrien put his head in his hands and took in a deep breath. “Chloé, it’s seriously not what you think it is. He told me that he and Ladybug have been concerned about a potential akuma. One of my dad’s assistants. He asked me if I knew anything. That’s it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Adrien thought he saw Marinette frowning. He wondered if the conversation was starting to annoy her—then again, most things involving Chloé tended to put her in a foul mood.

Chloé opened her mouth to say something, perhaps to snap a retort or form another argument. But before she could say anything, Nino came into the classroom and announced, “Hey, dudes, what’s with all the shouting?”

“Apparently Chat Noir’s dating Adrien,” Alya replied with a small laugh.

Nino’s mouth dropped open into a stunned O. He glanced at Adrien, pupils blown wide in his skull. “Dude, are you serious?”

Adrien dropped his head onto the desk. This was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of "Miscommunication" actually came from a conversation that my roommate and I had a while back. Going off that conversation, I thought it would be an interesting challenge to turn it into a "reveal AU" fic. I have to say, I'm not disappointed.
> 
> I look forward to working more on this story, as well as others in the future. And I am also looking forward to reading more fan fictions from the Miraculous Ladybug fandom. I have just finished reading "Glaze" by KryallaOrchid, and I have to say that it was perhaps one of the best I have ever read. If you have a moment, I recommend checking it out if you haven't already.
> 
> Have a wonderful day, everyone!


	2. Chapter 2

Plagg hadn’t stopped laughing since Adrien got home. He’d behaved while they were in class, not making a peep as Adrien attempted to clear up the misunderstanding.

In the end, Chloé had flounced back to her desk with an irritated huff. She didn’t look like she believed Adrien and Chat Noir _weren’t_ dating, but the fact that she wasn’t asking questions anymore was a good thing. Nino, on the other hand, kept watching Adrien out of the corner of his eye for the rest of the school day. It made him want to squirm.

“Dude, it’s really nothing like that,” Adrien had whispered when Miss Bustier’s back was turned.

“I believe you,” Nino said, but he sounded lost in thought.

The rest of the class seemed to have forgotten about the subject. Alya went back to chatting with Marinette in between lessons. Marinette, however, never took her eyes off him. When he spared a second to glance back and offer her an embarrassed smile, Marinette’s lips remained in a firm line. She didn’t look angry—more like she was trying to remember something important.

Adrien flopped face-first on his bed and tried to drown out Plagg’s cackling. “You know, it really isn’t that funny.”

“It’s _hilarious_ ,” Plagg managed between gasps. “They—they think you’re dating yourself!”

Adrien exhaled.

He let Plagg bounce around the room for just a few more moments while he got up and walked to his bedroom window. He pressed the tips of his fingers to the glass. It was cold.

Adrien frowned. Octobers were unpleasantly chilly, and he had taken to wearing two layers of clothing. Every blanket he owned was piled in a twisted heap on his bed. He was thankful Nathalie rarely came into his room—he wondered what kind of look he’d receive if she saw the blanket fort his bed had become.

Plagg hovered over to the window. He’d stopped laughing, but there was a big smile on his face. “You know, I’m a little surprised she jumped to that conclusion.”

“I’m...really not,” Adrien replied.

Plagg bobbed once in the air. “Though I suppose it’s better than her realizing the truth.”

Adrien shrugged.

“You think she will?”

Adrien turned away from the window. “Want some camembert?”

While Plagg munched away gleefully, Adrien perched at the windowsill. Now that Chloé had revealed what her first interpretation was, he doubted she would come up with any others. Chloé tended to obsess over things. She never could admit when she was wrong. He supposed that made his life a little bit easier; but a cold stone of dread settled in his stomach.

He couldn’t get Marinette’s strange expression out of his head. He’d never seen her look so serious—at least not when she was looking at him. She tended to smile at him more often now.

His heart seized. Was it possible _she’d_ managed to figure it out?

He shook the thought away. He spent more time with Ladybug than he did with Marinette, and if the partner who “knew him better than anyone else” hadn’t figured it out, there was no way Marinette had.

A shrill _beep-beep_ sound dragged Adrien from his gut-wrenching musings. He whirled to stare at Plagg. The kwami was hovering above his half-finished plate of camembert, looking displeased. “Ladybug’s calling.”

Adrien dove off the windowsill and snatched Plagg up in his palm.

The kwami opened his mouth, but when he spoke next, it was Ladybug’s voice that emerged: “ _Chat? Are you there?_ ”

“Uh, yeah,” Adrien said, rubbing the back of his head. They’d communicated through their kwami before, when one of them was out of uniform, but it was still strange. “What’s up, my lady?”

“ _There’s an akuma. Near the Boulangerie Patisserie on Gotlib Street._ ” She hesitated for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice seemed distant, “ _Do you know it?_ ”

“Yeah,” Adrien replied quietly. He remembered the bakery where Marinette lived. He’d only been there a handful of times, for study sessions with Nino and Alya, and once to train for a video game tournament, but he’d always loved going there. “Yeah, I know where it is.”

“ _OK._ ” A gust of wind distorted Ladybug’s voice, as if she were standing somewhere up high. “ _Hurry, kitty. The akuma’s not too powerful, but I’d feel better with the backup._ ”

“I’m already on my way, my lady,” Adrien replied. “See you shortly.”

She hung up without saying goodbye.

Plagg shook his head. “Do we have to go?”

“You heard her,” Adrien said. “We need to move.”

The kwami cast a pitiful look at his half-devoured plate of camembert. “I didn’t even get to finish eating.”

Rolling his eyes, Adrien turned toward the window. “You can eat when we get back. I’ll even get more for you, if you’re good.” He held his right hand out. “Plagg, Claws Out!”

Adrien was thankful he was more accustomed to the transformation his body underwent. The first time he transformed, it had been so blindingly painful that Adrien had vomited all over his bedroom floor and passed out. When he'd come to hours later, he was sprawled out on the floor, out of uniform. Plagg hovered over him. His eyes were alight with concern.

"It gets easier," he'd said. "I’m sorry."

Plagg had told the truth. It had grown easier since then. Adrien still didn't know what happened to make it possible, but he memorized the skills Plagg taught him.

He drew on those memories, tightening his grip until he felt the cold bite of his metal ring. He opened his mind and let the darkness come down over him. He felt a thin thread connecting himself to the ring, and he followed it until he could see a brilliant light behind his closed eyelids. He wrapped himself in it as he would with a blanket.

His skin began to tingle with thousands of little shocks. That had been the worst part once—now he'd grown used to it, and bore it stoically as the transformation took place. Pressure built beneath his skin, and he opened his eyes when it finally ended.

The first moment after the transformation was like blinking water out of his eyes. He looked down at himself. The fabric of his uniform was comfortably tight around his shoulders. Everything about his new form was familiar and comfortable, and Chat Noir exhaled. It felt good to be back.

The second he opened the window to step outside, however, he realized how freakishly _cold_ it was. He drew back with a loud hiss. Every hair on his head stood on end.

“Geez! It’s paws-itively freezing!”

He paused for a moment, remembering his lady wasn’t around to catch his clever quip. He wound his arms around his body and glanced around. There had to be something around here he could wear that would make superheroing less of a hassle today.

A strip of blue fabric caught his eye, hanging off the back of his desk chair. _Of course!_ Chat Noir darted over and snatched up the scarf his father had bought him for his fifteenth birthday. It wasn’t the warmest thing he owned, but in a pinch, it would work.

He wound it around his neck, burying his face in the scratchy fabric.

: _Are you sure it’s a good idea to wear that?_ : Plagg’s voice came from the back of his mind, like a song that wouldn’t go away. : _Someone might recognize it._ :

“There are tons of blue scarves just like this,” Chat replied. “And besides, if anyone asks, I’ll just say a friend gave it to me.”

: _A ‘friend’. Right._ :

Chat wished he could strangle the kwami, but doing so would require transforming back, and he couldn’t keep Ladybug waiting any longer than she had been. He settled for glaring at his bedroom mirror instead, hoping Plagg would see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful comments. I hope you have enjoyed the second installment of "Miscommunication".


	3. Chapter 3

Chat Noir moved across the twilight rooftops of Paris at a speed Adrien Agreste would never be able to reach. Agile in his new form, he didn’t have to worry about missing his footing. And even if he did, cats always landed on their feet.

The scarf managed to ward off a fair amount of the cold, though Chat knew he would need something warmer in the winter months.

: _Don’t worry about it,_ : Plagg’s voice said dismissively. : _When the weather gets too bad, we can modify your uniform a bit._ :

“You can’t modify it now?” Chat quipped, pulling the scarf up farther on his face.

: _You’d overheat._ :

That didn’t exactly seem like a bad idea at the moment. Chat stopped on a nearby roof and did a quick survey of the area. He was approaching Gotlib Street. He recognized the dips and slopes creating an intricate path of hills for him to climb before he reached his destination.

He darted across the obstacle course, loving the freedom being Chat Noir provided. He would never be able to do these things as Adrien Agreste. He was his father’s son, perfectly behaved, friendly but not outgoing. When he was Chat Noir, he was whoever he wanted to be. Despite the chill causing his lungs to burn, he drank in his freedom as he made a bee-line for Marinette’s bakery.

There was a balcony on the roof, near where Marinette’s room was. He’d gone out onto it once with Nino, Alya and Marinette. Once or twice, he’d landed on it as Chat Noir. It was always a place to stop and survey the area, never a place to rest.

As he got closer, he spotted a small splash of red and black already perched on the balcony. He smiled behind the scarf. He felt bad that his lady had been waiting so long, especially after how odd she’d sounded when she called. Chat didn’t worry too much about it. Once he arrived, he would joke with her—a pun here, a wink and an air-kiss there, and things would be back to normal.

He dropped soundlessly onto the balcony, next to the pink and white striped lawnchair. The moment he touched down, his enhanced senses picked up the scents of the potted plants Marinette used to decorate her hang-out spot, as she’d dubbed it.

Ladybug was leaning against the railing, peering out at the city. Chat Noir wasn’t foolish enough to think she hadn’t sensed him there. When they were in uniform, both Ladybug and Chat Noir seemed to be able to sense the other. Chat was disappointed he couldn’t do it when either of them were out of uniform—it would put an end to several long nights of lying awake, speculating over who his beloved partner in red could be in her civilian life.

Chat put on his most charming smile and took a step forward. “You rang for me, my lady?”

“You’re late, Chat,” Ladybug commented. She patted the railing next to her, and Chat slowly came up at her side. He caught a glimpse of her elegant profile, and noticed her bluebell eyes reflecting the setting sunlight.

“Sorry about that,” Chat answered, stretching his arms out to dangle over the balcony. “I was taking a cat nap when you called.”

Ladybug snorted. “That’s your excuse for everything.”

“Us cats need our beauty sleep. Though, I need less than most.”

Ladybug shook her head, a small smile playing with her lips. Chat noticed she hadn’t looked at him since he’d arrived.

Stepping back from the balcony railing, Chat stretched his arms up over his head. The muscles in his back stretched as he twisted in place. “So, you said there’s an akuma? I didn’t notice anything strange on my way over.”

“Just a small one.” Ladybug retracted herself from the railing. He noticed that she was wearing her normal uniform, thin and formfitting, and he wondered how she could manage in the blistering cold. He pulled the scarf down off his face, letting it sit comfortably around his neck. If she started acting like she was too cold, he would give it to her in a heartbeat and just deal with it. He liked being warm, but he liked his _lady_ being warm a lot better.

“Like I said,” Ladybug continued, tucking a strand of her ebony black hair behind her ear, “I’d feel better with the backup. I don’t know if Hawk Moth’s trying to bait us with a weak akuma.”

Ladybug drew in a deep breath and turned to look at him. Her eyes were luminous in the dark. She held his gaze, long enough for Chat to feel a prickling sensation under his skin.

“Maybe he’s just feeling lazy,” Chat commented, trying to dispel some of the tension. “Sending akumas out must take a lot of energy, right? We rarely see a lot of them all at once.” Chat tapped his finger against his lips thoughtfully. “Though there was that time with Vanisher and Antibug...But it doesn’t seem like that’s a common thing.”

Ladybug didn’t respond. Her eyes were focused at his throat.

“Oh, this?” Chat brought his hand up to the scratchy blue material and patted it self-consciously. “One of my, uh, friends gave me this. ‘It’s cold out there, y’know? So, here’s a scarf!’” He hoped his impersonation didn’t sound too much like his usual self. “It works pretty well, so if you start to get cold, my lady, I can loan it to you and—”

Ladybug made an odd, choking sound that stopped Chat Noir’s rambling. She hadn’t removed her gaze from the blue scarf wrapped around his neck, and her face was scrubbed clean of anything except shock. The red of her mask stood out like blood splashed on snow.

“Um, my lady?” Chat took a step forward. “Are you OK—”

“There’s a rumor,” she said, taking a step back. Chat froze. She was staring at him as if he were the akuma, and he was seconds away from snatching her Miraculous. “I’ve heard a few people talking about it.”

 _Rumor?_ Chat felt his face heat up. How had Ladybug heard about that? He doubted Chloé had spread the word that far, and he didn’t think anyone else in class had thought too much about it.

“Listen, Ladybug,” Chat said, keeping his voice steady. He’d had enough practice with his father and Nathalie to know how to control in his emotions. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but there’s nothing going on between me and—”

A loud bang echoed from several blocks over. Chat Noir and Ladybug whipped their gazes toward the sound.

An eerie few moments of silence passed, and then Ladybug fixed him with a serious stare. Her pupils were so wide they seemed to milk the color out of her irises. “Let’s deal with the akuma first,” she said, her voice low.

Chat dropped his shoulders. “OK.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get really serious, aren't they?
> 
> Thanks to everyone for commenting on my story. I am so glad you are all enjoying it. I do hope to improve my writing and do a better job in the future.
> 
> Have an awesome day, everyone!


	4. Chapter 4

The akuma really _was_ nothing special, Chat realized. A construction worker, frustrated at ill treatment and poor work conditions, had become a quick target for Hawk Moth’s akuma. He stood in front of them, dressed in brilliant orange with wrecking balls for hands.

He wasn’t much for words, though somewhere between grunts and growls, Ladybug had managed to draw the name “Destruction Worker” out of him. Not the most clever name Hawk Moth had come up with, but with the distinct lack of danger being produced by this particular akuma, Chat Noir figured Hawk Moth was simply feeling lazy today.

“You know,” Chat commented, ducking to avoid the Destruction Worker’s furiously flying fists, “I think this guy’s trying to _wreck_ our date, my lady.”

Under normal circumstances, Ladybug would have either shot him an exasperated glance, groaned, or at least hurled an irritated “Really?” at him.

She did a backflip to put some distance between herself and the Destruction Worker. Her yo-yo hissed out with a loud _whiiiine_ , circling around the akumatized victim’s beefy wrist. She jerked him back, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.

Chat frowned. His lady wasn’t acting like herself. She hadn’t been since he’d shown up, not since she’d seen the scarf wound around his throat. _There’s a rumor_ , she’d said.

That stupid rumor. He wondered how Chloé had even come to that conclusion. He knew she had some sort of crush on him, if that was what one would call it. Had her anger come out of some form of jealousy? Though, if he was in fact dating a superhero as Chloé seemed to think he was, that would create some hefty competition for her.

“Chat, heads up!”

He snapped back to awareness just in time to see one of the Destruction Worker’s fists come sailing toward his face.

“Holy—!” Chat Noir batted away the wrecking ball as it approached. His baton connected with a loud clang, and the Destruction Worker’s weapon went sailing in the other direction.

Chat jumped back, landing on all fours on the sidewalk. He shook his head rapidly. Now was not the time to be worrying about that stupid rumor. They needed to defeat the akuma. After that, they could clear up this whole thing and go back to normal.

“The akuma’s in his watch!” Ladybug hollered from the other side of the street.

“Gotcha!” Chat Noir charged at the Destruction Worker as Ladybug threw her yo-yo into the air and called out, “Lucky Charm!”

It landed in her hand—a roll of red and black speckled duct-tape—and before Chat Noir could even begin to wonder what she would do with it, something heavy smashed into his back.

The world wheeled overhead, cement and stars and streetlights. Chat tucked his head into his arms and hit the ground on his shoulders. Pain bolted through him like a shock of electricity. He rolled across the ground and skidded to a stop on all fours.

His body felt as if he’d been hit by a truck. Every inch of him throbbed like one big bruises. When he took a breath, his lungs shuddered. It reminded him of the way he’d felt the first time he’d fought an akuma; he’d been less experienced then, and had been battered against several buildings.

“Chat!”

“I’m fine!” he called back. His chest ached, it was painful to crouch like this, and his scarf hand untangled itself and hung loose on the ground. “Just get the watch!”

Ladybug glanced around quickly, her eyes settling on something before she took off. Chat Noir took a few deep breaths, trying to collect himself. He’d let himself get momentarily distracted, but he could heal quickly in this form. The sharp aches and pains were beginning to throb away into little more than bruises.

_How did Ladybug hear about that rumor?_ Chat Noir tried to shake off the thought. Now was _not_ the time for it. He had to focus on getting back into the fight.

But the thoughts kept assaulting him, even as he rose off the ground and tested out his shoulders. Was it possible that Ladybug knew about the rumor because she’d been the one who started them?

Chat shook away the thought and looked toward the Destruction Worker. Ladybug was already immediately behind the large mass of orange, encircling his beefy, metal wrists with the duct tape.

The akuma really was nothing. Chat straightened his spine and started walking toward her.

He hated himself for doubting his partner. Ladybug couldn’t possibly be Chloé. They had dispelled that fear when Lady Wifi ambushed her in her home. Chat Noir had seen Ladybug and Chloé interact on multiple occasions, and Chloé had been fought against them as one of Hawk Moth’s pawns.

Rose and Juleka had been in the classroom when the rumor was started, but it couldn’t be either of them. Rose had been around Ladybug before. He doubted it could be Juleka.

Ladybug grabbed the Destruction Worker’s watch and flung it to the ground. It shattered into several chips of glass and faux-gold.

She couldn’t be Alya, either. As the girl who ran the Ladyblog, Alya made it a point to try and videotape any of the akuma battles that she could manage to be around. She and Ladybug had been in the same places at the same times.

From the destroyed remains of the Destruction Worker’s wristwatch, a warped purple butterfly emerged. Chat watched its wings flicker in the light, slivers of white peeking through.

This just wasn’t adding up. There was no way for Ladybug to know about that rumor unless she’d been in the classroom. Chat’s heart seized in his throat. Unless she’d been listening the whole time. Chat dropped his hands to his side, feeling the scarf brush the tips of his nails. Unless she’d been sitting behind him with her lips drawn into a firm line, her brow furrowed as she tried to remember a conversation he’d mentioned that they’d never had—

_Oh_.

The petite girl in her red and black jumpsuit hurdled her yo-yo at the fleeing akuma. Blue eyes flickered with determination—eyes he had seen countless times before.

_Oh_.

The yo-yo snatched up the akuma, burning away the purple mist. Ladybug pulled it back toward her body, a smile on her face. He’d seen that smile, too, when she spoke to Alya. He’d been beginning to see traces of it when she spoke to him outside the classroom.

_Oh, my God_.

Ladybug ran her finger up her yo-yo and popped it open. “Bye-bye, little butterfly.” Her voice was gentle, the coo of someone speaking to a frightened animal. Not the quick-tongued way she conversed with her friends.

_I’m an idiot_.

The snow-colored butterfly fluttered away into the evening sky, wings glistening in the streetlight. And then, very slowly, Marinette turned towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor, oblivious children.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been supporting "Miscommunication" thus far. I do hope that you all will continue to enjoy it, and I hope to have more for you in the future.
> 
> Have a spectacular day!


	5. Chapter 5

Butterflies fluttered in Chat’s stomach as he watched Ladybug throw the duct tape into the sky. “Miraculous Ladybug!” Magic circulated around every item that had been destroyed in the akuma attack—purple energy bled out from the Destruction Worker, and he transformed back into a large man with normal hands. He took a quick look around his surroundings, blinking owlishly.

Ladybug walked toward him, and Chat Noir straightened his spine. She didn’t raise her hand for a fist-bump He didn’t either. Her eyes were locked on his, and although he wanted nothing more than to run away and hide, he forced himself to hold her gaze.

_She knows who you are_. Chat Noir drew in a breath that made his lungs ache. _That's what this is about. She knows who you are, and you know who she is_.

“Um…” Chat Noir didn’t know where to begin. They’d known each other for such a long time—but they didn’t really _know_ each other, did they?

Ladybug’s dark eyes reflected his face back as she came to stand in front of him. He could see the scarf around his throat. He reached up and fixed it, reveling in the scratchy warmth. “Um, my lady, we…” It felt odd to call her my lady now that he knew who she was. He exhaled. “We have to talk.”

“Yes, we do,” Ladybug replied.

Chat opened his mouth to speak, but the groan from the construction worker cut him off. He waved toward a nearby alley. “Maybe we should take this conversation elsewhere.”

Ladybug glanced over her shoulder. “Agreed.” She tossed her yo-yo into the air and disappeared with it. Chat Noir gave the confused construction worker a smile, a brief wave, and then hurried after her.

The streetlights had clicked on, and Chat Noir perched on top of one several blocks down. Ladybug stood on a low overhang just slightly above him.

Her arms were folded, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Chat wondered if he looked similar. The scarf had done a decent job of warding off the chill, but he imagined that he must have looked pale or something. With the news he’d just uncovered, he was surprised he’d been able to hold it together as long as he had. Being the son of Gabriel Agreste had granted him the ability to control his emotions.

A low beep came from Ladybug’s earring. She brought her hand up to cover it. “Listen, we don’t have a lot of time, so I really have to tell you something.”

“Me, too,” Chat murmured. _I have to tell you I’m an idiot. That I should have realized this a long time ago_.

Ladybug drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. pale smoke wafted around her face. “Chat, we’ve been partners for a long time. We’ve gone through so much together. Fighting akumas, saving Paris...We’re a great team. You’re one of my best friends. And, I just want you to know...It’s OK.”

Chat swallowed the lump in his throat. “It’s OK,” he repeated. She was all right with knowing who he was. She was all right with _him_ knowing who _she_ was. Warmth shot through his veins.

“Yes, it is,” Ladybug responded. Chat narrowed his eyes. It almost looked like her face was more flushed now than it had been earlier. “I mean,” she continued, unable to meet his eye, “you flirt with me, but it’s not like we’re, you know, a couple or anything, so I don’t mind who you’re dating—”

_Wait, what?_

“And I’m sure he’s a wonderful person,” Ladybug went on. “I mean, I don’t know him myself, but some of my friends know him, and they say he’s nice. You really couldn’t have found someone better.” Her expression was thoughtful, almost sad. “Really, though. It’s OK.”

“H—hold on,” Chat said, finding his voice. His tongue felt like a chunk of metal. It was difficult to form words. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean, what am I talking about? You’re—” She turned to face him, her voice lowered into a near-whisper. “You’re dating Adrien Agreste, aren’t you?”

Chat Noir opened his mouth. Then he closed it. He felt a prickling sensation behind his eyes, spreading out over his cheeks. The scarf around his neck felt as tight as a serpent wrapping around its dinner. He wanted to reach up and tear it off, but his hands were limp at his sides.

Ladybug’s earring beeped again, and she took a step back. “Well, that’s all I wanted to say. I’m happy you found someone, kitty.” She gave him a small smile.

The use of the nickname startled his voice back into him. “W—w—wait.” He hated how pathetic he sounded; it reminded him of speaking to his father. “My lady, it’s not like that. I’m not _dating_ Adrien Agreste. I’m—”

“You don’t have to explain, it’s OK.”

“No!” Chat shook his head. “It’s not what you think, M—” He froze, as if the word were impossible to say. _Marinette. It’s not what you think, Marinette_. Her name danced on the edge of his tongue like a spice. He wanted to say it. _Marinette_. His shoulders drooped. “My lady…”

Ladybug pursed her lips. “But then how did he—” Her earring beeped again, and she turned away. “I have to go. We’ll finish this conversation later, kitty.”

“No, wait!” Chat reached his hand out, but Ladybug tossed her yo-yo and was gone.

He dropped his arm. The wind had stopped blowing, but Chat felt a chill forming deep in his core. His mouth tasted like metal; it made him want to be sick.

Ladybug didn’t know who he really was. He’d been wrong. Chat looked up at the darkening sky. He could go after her. He knew where she lived, and if he explained himself, maybe things would be all right. She had to know that he knew her identity, and he needed to clear up that stupid rumor. How had Chloé even come up with something like that?

But something kept him rooted in place. He wasn’t certain what it was. Fear of rejection, anger, or ruining the friendship they had? How would Ladybug react to learning the truth about him?

: _Hey_ ,: came a small voice from the back of his head. : _You OK…?_ :

Chat brought his hand to his throat. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Let’s just go home.” He needed some time to process this. And when he saw Marinette at school tomorrow, he would talk to her. He would explain that the rumor was nothing more than something Chloé had made up, and then….then he would tell her who he really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the amount of time between updates, guys! Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter, and I hope to have the next one up by tomorrow. Fingers crossed!


	6. Chapter 6

Adrien sighed. He was in his favorite place in the world—the shower—and he still didn’t feel any better.

Well, he thought, it wasn’t actually his favorite place in the world. In the winter, his favorite place to be was buried under the blankets on his massive, fluffy bed. But the way things had been going today, the shower was a pretty damn nice place to be.

Compared to the rest of his house, Adrien’s shower was pretty simplistic. Nathalie had offered to “upgrade” his bathroom into something better befitting “the son of Gabriel Agreste”, but Adrien had turned her down. What did he need a “rain-style” showerhead with LED lights for? His showers only lasted about ten or twelve minutes—he didn’t need them to be _fancy_.

Tonight he felt like curling up in the shower and never coming out. He didn’t need to worry about the water getting cold for at least an hour—but did he really want to stay in here _that_ long?

Adrien leaned his head against the ceramic wall and exhaled. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He’d learned Marinette’s secret, but she hadn’t learned his. Instead, she seemed to believe the rumor Chloé had come up with.

_And tomorrow_ , Adrien thought, _I’m going to tell her the truth_.

Anxiety made his stomach curl. What would Marinette do when he told her? He was no stranger to the way she acted around him, but they’d been getting better. Would she accept that he was Chat Noir, the way he’d accepted that she was Ladybug? Or would she never want to talk to him again? He couldn’t imagine why she would have that kind of reaction, but the thought crossed his mind nonetheless.

He turned off the hot-water tap and stood listening to the sounds of water trickling down the drain. Without the constant stream of water pouring down around him, a chill swept through his bathroom. Adrien shivered and grabbed for the towel hanging on the hook.

He dried himself off and stepped onto the bathmat. Steam fogged up the mirror so that his reflection was just a blurry mess of blond and peach. He put on his best _everything is fine_ face and slid open the bathroom door.

He watched the trail of steam waft into his bedroom. He supposed this was one of the perks of being related to Gabriel Agreste—he had his own private bathroom. He didn’t have to worry about bumping into people on his way back from the bathroom. He didn’t think he could face Nathalie right now. She didn’t know anything about what had happened, naturally, but Adrien had a soft spot for the woman who practically raised him on a day-to-day basis, and seeing her probably would have sent him over the edge.

Plagg sat on Adrien’s desk, munching on a piece of camembert. Adrien could smell it from where he was, but it didn’t stop him from walking over and sinking into his chair.

“You were in there a while,” Plagg commented around his late-night snack.

“Was I?” Adrien glanced at the clock on his cell phone. On top of the picture of himself and Nino that he used as a background, pale numbers read 11:26 PM. “Huh.” He hadn’t realized he’d been in the shower for over half an hour.

Tossing the damp towel into the hamper opposite his bed, Adrien fished through his drawers and unearthed a large nightshirt and a pair of boxers. Slipping them off, he reached for his cellphone.

“Hey, dude,” Nino’s voice chirped through the phone after four or five rings. “Whatsup?”

“Hey, Nino,” Adrien replied. “Sorry to call so late.”

“Aw, bro, you know I’m never in bed before one AM.”

Adrien couldn’t help but laugh. “That explains a lot, actually.”

He could just picture Nino in his bedroom. He’d been perched at his favorite spot—the mess that was his bed—creating some new music playlist on his laptop. He was a major music fan, always wearing a pair of giant orange headphones and playing something epic.

“So, what’s up?” asked Nino. “You sound kind of down. Did something happen with your old man again?”

“No, not this time. It’s...ugh, just frustrated, that’s all.”

“Somebody make you mad?”

“Yes. I mean, not really. I, uh…” Adrien exhaled and shoved his bangs out of his forehead. “I’m mad at myself more than anything. I was trying to talk to someone earlier about something...something important, and I just, just couldn’t get the words out, you know?”

Nino paused, and for a moment Adrien thought the call had dropped. He was just pulling his phone back to check when Nino asked, “Was it Chat Noir?”

Adrien groaned and spun around in his desk chair. “Nino, I already told you, that was a rumor Chloé made up. I’m not with Chat Noir.”

Plagg snickered.

Adrien swatted at him as if he were batting away an irritating fly. “And besides,” he went on, “the important thing I had to talk to someone about today didn’t have anything to do with relationship stuff.”

“Oh?

“It was, well, it was more about...who I really am.” Adrien took a deep breath, wondering if he’d said too much, and then to be safe, added, “Metaphorically speaking.”

“Oh, gotcha,” Nino answered. His voice sounded distracted, as if he were thinking of other things. “Well, you’re Adrien Agreste, and you’re awesome. That’s all people need to know about _who you really are_.”

Adrien felt a shock go through him. Not a bad shock—more like a small surge of energy. Like he could go out and take on Hawk Moth and how every many akumas he decided to throw at them and still be OK. “Thanks, Nino,” he said with a small smile. It made him feel a lot better.

“No, problem, dude,” Nino replied.

“Well, I’m gonna go to bed,” Adrien said. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do tomorrow. See you at school.”

“You, too, bro.”

Adrien set his cell phone on the desk and rested his head on his forearms. He gazed up at Plagg, whose eyes were brilliant green and surprisingly comforting.

“Don’t worry,” Plagg said, offering his half-eaten piece of camembert to Adrien. “Things will work out.”

Adrien declined the offer for camembert, but he appreciated the gesture. “Thanks, Plagg. I hope so.” He closed his eyes and tried to think of something better. Usually when he was in this sort of funk, thinking about a girl with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes made him feel better. This time, however, thinking about that particular girl filled his heart with dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terribly sorry for the late update, everyone. My roommate and I went to go see Deadpool on Sunday, and with school work and a rapidly growing cold coming on, time got away from me. I do hope that this chapter makes up for it, and that you are all prepared for what comes next.
> 
> Thank you all for your constant support. I love hearing from you guys. Have an awesome day!


	7. Chapter 7

It seemed to Adrien that yesterday had been nothing more than a dream. No, not a dream—an agonizingly awful _nightmare_. A collected series of horrible images and words he couldn’t escape. He was happy he hadn’t dreamed when he went to bed.

The Gorilla was bringing him to school. When he woke up, his head was stuffed to the brim with bad thoughts and his stomach fluttered with razor-winged butterflies. He’d briefly thought of telling Nathalie he was too sick to go to school today—but he couldn’t do that, either.

He needed to deal with this. Marinette needed to know the truth. She had to know that Chloé’s rumor wasn’t true, that he knew her secret...and that he was Chat Noir.

Adrien had bundled himself well against the chilly October air. A warm copper-colored scarf looped around his neck, and he wore a long-sleeved black shirt beneath a thick, off-white jacket. Despite that, he couldn’t fight shivering as the car approached the school.

He usually liked being driven through Paris. It was beautiful, with rows of old houses and tall buildings and places he knew better than everyone else. As Adrien, he’d walked through the streets with his friends or with Nathalie and the Gorilla, admiring the stone steps and stained glass windows of Paris’ older neighborhoods. As Chat Noir, he’d raced over rooftops alongside Ladybug, seeing Paris from a view most only imagined in dreams.

It actually cheered him up to see them before he went to school. He definitely needed something to take his mind off the disaster that had been his whole yesterday.

He swallowed a nasty taste in his mouth. His mind roiled as he imagined what Marinette would say when she learned the truth. He’d been her partner for such a long time, he didn’t know if he could deal with her hating him.

_She’s not going to hate you_ , he told himself, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

He white-knuckled his book bag. Plagg was burrowed deep inside, napping off the light breakfast Nathalie had the chefs prepare for Adrien. He hadn’t found the appetite to eat, but rather than worry Nathalie, he simply had Plagg “dispose of it”.

The kwami had been unusually quiet. Plagg was a loud creature by nature, laughing at the misfortunes of others and thinking only with his stomach. Adrien was thankful for the silence; he knew Plagg was trying to be supportive, but kwamis didn’t understand. He knew Plagg didn’t really “get” why he was so worked up and worried about Marinette’s reaction.

He felt the car slow down, and the school came into view. Adrien’s heart gave an uncomfortable thump. He shot a glance at the rear-view mirror to see if the Gorilla was looking at him. Maybe it wasn’t too late to fake sick and go back home.

_No_ , said a voice in the back of his head. _You can’t walk out of this. You have to tell her the truth. She has a right to know_.

Adrien drew in a deep breath and, offering a mumbled “thanks” to the Gorilla, stepped out onto the pavement. A frigid wind whipped across his cheeks. He shrugged his shoulders, shrinking into himself, and walked with his head down toward the school entrance.

His trip to Miss Bustier’s class was nothing exciting. Several students were chatting with their friends before the bell rang. A few offered Adrien friendly good morning waves, but when he didn’t return them, they shot him concerned glances.

Adrien knew how he must have looked to them—borderline ill. His clothing was on point, naturally; being the son of fashion designer Gabriel Agreste, he _did_ have a certain image to keep up. But he knew his classmates wouldn’t be looking at his clothes. No, they would notice the way his hair wasn’t as neatly combed as usual, or how there were dark circles under his eyes. He’d slept, but he hadn’t slept _well_.

He slumped into Miss Bustier’s class and hurried over to his desk without looking at anyone. Nino was there, tapping away at his phone. He looked up and waved as he saw Adrien come in, but his expression shifted to shock and then to concern as Adrien dropped into his seat.

“Dude,” he said under his breath, “are you OK? You look terrible.”

“‘Cause that’s what every model wants to hear,” Adrien said with a small laugh.

Nino edged closer to him. “No, dude, seriously, what’s up? You sounded like crap over the phone. Did you get any sleep?”

Adrien shrugged.

Nino’s expression hardened. “You wanna talk about it?”

Adrien paused, pretending to think. _No_. He really didn’t want to talk about it with Nino. He _couldn’t_ talk about it with Nino. He felt terrible for it, but even after everything he had been through with Nino—all the problems with his dad, all the nights of calling late to complain, the time when Nino actually came to his house to speak to Gabriel Agreste on his behalf—this was one part of his life where Adrien couldn’t involve his best friend.

“I’m OK,” Adrien said, putting on the best smile he could manage. “It’s nothing, really.”

Nino pressed his lips into a thin line. Adrien knew he didn’t believe him, but he expected nothing less. “OK,” Nino said after a moment, turning to look as the bell rang and the rest of the students began to file in. “I’m here if you wanna talk.”

Adrien nodded and surveyed his classmates. Rose and Juleka came in one right after the other. Ivan walked in a few steps ahead of Mylène, though he gave her a friendly smile as he sat down. She blushed and offered him a little wave. Alix, Kim, and Max raced into the classroom, dragging a gentle yet firm, “No running in class” from Miss Bustier.

Chloé stomped in with Sabrina in tow. She didn’t even offer Adrien a passing glance; her nose was aimed at the sky, her eyes closed and colored with a bright blue eyeshadow. She sat down and made a big production of dabbing lipgloss on her lower lip.

Alya was the last to come in, right as the late bell rang, and Adrien’s heart sunk. Marinette wasn’t anywhere to be found. Alya, looking down at her phone, hurried into her seat and continued rapidly typing. Adrien didn’t know if she were attempting to contact someone, or updating a post on her Ladyblog. He’d been way too distracted this morning to check it.

Adrien wracked his brain for answers. Maybe Marinette was just running late. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d missed the start of class. Or maybe she was sick. She had been walking around outside last night with her normal uniform on, and Adrien doubted it was very warm.

“Okay, students,” Miss Bustier said, taking her place at the front of the classroom. “Today we’ll be talking about…”

Her voice droned out. Adrien rested his chin in his hand and stared at the blank spot on the chalkboard. It wasn’t possible that Marinette had skipped school because of last night, was it? Dread filled his stomach with ice. That couldn’t be—there was no way Marinette would be so upset about believing that Chat Noir and Adrien were dating that she wouldn’t come to class.

And yet, as the minute hands on the clock continued to tick, and moments passed without Marinette trying to slip quietly into class without being noticed, Adrien began to worry.

He shot a glare at Chloé out of the corner of his eye. She just _had_ to go and conjure a rumor like that. Adrien wondered if anyone would care if he were to accidentally spill his lunch on her during the break. It would be a petty revenge tactic, but at the moment, Adrien was willing to try almost anything.

Just as he was beginning to envision the exact way Chloé would respond, Marinette practically collapsed into the room.

It was hardly an attempt to sneak in. Marinette stood on the threshold, blinking owlishly. Her cotton tee shirt was wrinkled, one sleeve rolled up much farther than the other, and the wings of her collar askew. Her glossy black hair was pulled into her usual pigtails, but it looked as if she had done her hair on her way out the door.

Adrien cringed. The worst of it was the look on her face—like she’d just barely managed to drag herself out of bed after suffering an endless night of bad dreams.

“Um, sorry, Miss Bustier,” Marinette mumbled, tightening her grip on her pink book bag.

Miss Bustier gave Marinette a once over and, taking pity on her, waved impatiently at the desk. “Nice of you to join us, Marinette. Please, sit down.”

Marinette’s face flushed dark pink. She slunk over to her seat. Adrien cringed. He wondered if Marinette had managed to get any sleep at all.

“Hi,” Marinette whispered to Alya.

Adrien turned to glance over his shoulder. He felt a deep pain in his chest. _I did this_. A small voice in the back of his mind urged him not to think like that, to believe that Marinette looked so exhausted and stressed out for some other reason.

But there could be no other explanation for it. _She probably hasn’t stopped thinking about that rumor_. His lips pressed together into a pale line. _I need to fix this_.

The rest of the class dragged on. Every click of the clock sounded like a gunshot. Adrien could barely sit still; he shifted back and forth in his chair, tapped his pencil eraser on the tabletop, tugged on a lock of his hair until a small clump of golden strands came loose.

When the bell rang to dismiss them for lunch, Adrien almost believed it was a dream. While he’d wanted the day to speed up so that he could get this over with, now that it was here he wished he was back in first period.

Chloé stood up with an irritated huff. Tossing her glossy blonde ponytail over her shoulder, she stormed over to the door. “Come on, Sabrina,” she said. “Let’s go to that café down the street.”

“O—OK, Chloé.” Sabrina gathered up her bookbag and tripped along after her friend. She spared a brief glance at Adrien, and when he looked up at her, she averted her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed.

Before Adrien could even begin to wonder what that reaction could be about, the sound of Alya’s chair sliding across the wooden floor snagged his attention. “Come on, girl,” she was saying in a soothing, low voice. “You definitely need to eat something.”

Marinette shook her head. “Thanks, Alya, but I’m not all that hungry right now.”

“You should really eat something,” Alya continued. “You’ll feel worse if you don’t.”

“N—no, really. I’m fine.” Marinette waved her hands and gave her best friend a small smile. With her pale face and dark bags under her eyes, it didn’t look as reassuring as Adrien was sure she intended. “I’ll eat something when I go home. I’m just—just not that hungry right now.”

Alya didn’t look convinced, but after a moment of intensive staring, she dropped her shoulders. “OK, girl, if you’re sure. I’m gonna grab something to munch on. I’ll snag you something, in case you change your mind and want it later.” Offering Marinette a comforting tap on the shoulder, Alya collected her bag and hurried out of the classroom.

Nino stood up and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m gonna go grab a bite. You comin’, bro?”

Adrien shook his head. “No, I’ve got something really important to take care of. You go on without me.”

Nino frowned. “Want me to stay?”

That was the last thing Adrien wanted. It was going to be hard enough as it was explaining this to Marinette. To have Nino find out, too...The sudden burst of anxiety that shot through him made his knees weak. “That’s OK, man. No reason both of us should starve.” Adrien tried to laugh it off, but the look on Nino’s face showed how unconvinced he was.

With a quick “see you later”, Nino disappeared. The voices of other students buzzed all around him. The thin sound of Nathanaël’s pencil scratching on scrap paper sounded like the buzzing of an irritated bee. Adrien swallowed a lump in his throat.

He could leave. He already looked terrible. If he were to call Nathalie, he was sure she would send the Gorilla to pick him up. He didn’t have to do this. The world wasn’t at stake. There was nothing forcing him to tell Marinette that he knew her identity, and there was certainly nothing forcing him to out his own identity. He didn’t have to tell Marinette that he was Chat Noir—

But that wasn’t right. Thinking like that, Adrien’s chest felt as if his heart had transformed into a stone. It was a red-hot ball beneath his skin. It would rip through him if he didn’t get it out. He couldn’t let her continue to believe that rumor.

“Marinette,” he murmured.

She lifted her head at the sound of her name. Blinking down at him, she furrowed her brow, no doubt trying to figure out if she’d imagined it. Adrien turned to stare at her. He caught the way her cheeks darkened and she straightened up in her seat.

“H—h—hi, Adrien,” she sputtered.

“Hi, Marinette,” Adrien replied. He hoped his voice didn’t sound as breathless as he felt. The edges of his sight blurred as if he were going to pass out. A prickling sensation gathered across his lips. “Would you—would you mind if I...talked to you about something?”

Marinette’s blue eyes widened. Adrien remembered when he’d written a poem for Ladybug. He’d commented on her bluebell eyes; until this point, he’d never realized how accurate of a description that was.

Marinette tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “S—sure. We can talk. We can totally talk. Wh—what do you want to talk about?”

_You can’t be here_ , a voice that sounded oddly like Plagg hissed. Adrien gestured to the hall. “Um, do you mind if we spoke somewhere, uh, private? I don’t—” He lowered his voice. “I don’t really want other people to hear me.”

She stared at him, not answering, and for a moment Adrien wondered if he were moments away from being struck by lightning. Every hair on his body stood on end. Everything around him screamed _danger_. He wanted to shove away from his desk, hurry to the window, Claws Out, and get out of here. He didn’t care who saw him or what they thought.

“Um,” Marinette said, glancing around. “Uh, yeah, sure. W—we can go somewhere. Sure.”

Adrien drew in a deep breath and stood up. He grabbed his bookbag, hoping the movement woke Plagg up. He was going to need him for this. “OK,” he mumbled. The words took the breath of out of body until he was just a hollow shell standing at the edge of a dark abyss. What the heck was he going to say? What could he possibly hope to say? “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can do this, my child! I have the utmost faith in you!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has supported "Miscommunication". I do hope it continues to be an exciting read for you all, and I do look forward to writing more in the future.
> 
> Have an excellent day!


	8. Chapter 8

Adrien looked down at the copper scarf around his neck and willed it to come alive and strangle him. Or turn into a snake and slither away, so he and Marinette would have something else to talk about.

_Stop procrastinating_ , he told himself irritably. He looked around at the storage room. Collège Françoise Dupont was a huge school with plenty of places to disappear. Ivan and Mylène liked to sneak off and listen to music in the vacant classrooms during the lunch break; sometimes Kim would dare Alix to go down into the school basement.

There were several storage rooms around the school, where the janitorial staff stored old mop buckets, brooms, and other cleaning supplies. The one Adrien had selected was used to house old school dance decorations. The overhead lights were decorated with cobwebs and old streamers, and boxes labeled DECORATIONS (HALLOWEEN) were piled on top of each other.

Adrien didn’t usually like sneaking around in the storage rooms. He and Nino had a few months ago, but something about all the cobwebs gave Adrien chills. Spiders were a ridiculous thing to be spooked by—he was Chat Noir! He wasn’t afraid of anything!

Except, he was. It was difficult not to be afraid, standing in front of Marinette, about to confess that he knew the secret she’d fought so hard to protect.

Marinette leaned back against the storage room door. She hadn’t made eye contact with him since he’d asked her to speak with him privately. _It’s probably because she thinks you’re dating Chat Noir_ , he told himself, and it made him cringe.

“What did you want to talk about?” asked Marinette. The flickering overhead lights of the storage room gave her face a strange, orange glow.

“I…,” Adrien swallowed a lump in his throat. He clutched the straps of his book bag until he felt the leather biting into the creases of his fingers. “I wanted to, um, talk to you about what Chloé said yesterday.”

Marinette tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“About me,” Adrien said softly. “And about Chat Noir.”

As Adrien expected, Marinette’s cheeks flushed a brilliant scarlet. She raised her hands in a defensive position. “I don’t—um, I mean, I remember that, but I didn’t really worry about it—I mean, I’m happy you found someone, and I’m sure Chat Noir is a great person. I don’t know him personally—” Marinette’s eyes widened at the realization of how suspicious that might have sounded, and when she spoke again, her words came twice as fast. “I mean, of course I don’t know him personally. I had to help him once, but we’ve never hung out or anything. That would be silly, right?”

Recognizing that Marinette’s rambling was probably the sign of an impending freak out, Adrien raised his hands and said in a soothing voice, “It’s OK, that’s not what I—”

Marinette didn’t seem to hear him, her words running right over his. “And you can date whoever you want. You’re a wonderful person and—agh, no, wait, I didn’t meant to say that. I mean, no, I meant I didn’t mean to say that out loud, not that you aren’t a wonderful person—”

“Marinette,” Adrien tried again, feeling the uncomfortable tingling sensation returning. This time it focused just behind his eyes. “Marinette, I need to—”

“And a lot of girls in Paris want to date him, right? So, that’s pretty lucky. Alya thinks he’s _pretty slick_ , so even she might be a little bit jealous of you, and—”

“ _Marinette!_ ”

At the sudden increase in volume, she stopped rambling. Her eyes locked on him, irises reflecting the disaster that he was: standing with his back perfectly straight, hands clenched in tight fists, teeth sunk into his lower lip. He tasted blood.

Drawing in a deep breath, Adrien murmured, “I’m _not_ dating Chat Noir, Marinette. That was just—just some rumor Chloé came up with. I’m not dating him.” He paused, swallowing around the stone in his throat, and said, “I _can’t_ date him.”

Marinette’s brow furrowed. “You’re Adrien Agreste. You can date whoever you want.”

Adrien laughed. It was an ugly, awful sound. “No, it’s—it’s not like that, Marinette. You see, I can’t date Chat Noir because he’s...because he’s not…” _Tell her_ , said a fierce voice in the back of his mind. _Tell her now. You’re him. You are Chat Noir. Tell her_. “I can’t be dating Chat Noir because…” Adrien inhaled through his nose, tasting the dust of the storage room, all the crisp sensations of years past. “About a year and a half ago, I used to dream about a black cat. A black cat with green eyes.”

It wasn’t what he’d intended to say. He’d wanted to tell her, _I’m Chat Noir_. But instead, those had been the words that came out. He watched as Marinette blinked, trying to wrap her head around what he could possibly mean by that

“Um,” she said after a moment, “I’m sorry, Adrien, but I don’t see why that—”

“The dream came every night,” Adrien continued. He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this. Why did it matter? But the words were flowing forth as if he were being compelled by an otherworldly force. “I was standing in my basement, in front of an old box. There was a black cat on it. He would look at me, but when I reached out to pet him, he ran away.

“I didn’t think much of it at first. But after the dream kept coming back, I started to wonder if it meant something. I decided to wait until dark, and when Nathalie went to bed, I went down to the basement. I found that box from my dream. There wasn’t a cat, but…” Adrien unclenched his fingers from his book bag and held up his hand, letting the light flash off his silver ring. “I found _this_.”

Marinette stared at his finger, at the hunk of silver attached to it. He could tell by her expression that she’d never really paid attention to the accessory he wouldn’t be caught dead without, but now that he was holding it up to her she was beginning to connect the dots.

She would notice the intricacies of the ring. She would notice the round disk where a small green paw print would fit perfectly. She would notice that it would look better painted black. She had seen it enough times before when a pad was flashing, signalling an inevitable return to normalcy, that even if the color changed she would recognize it immediately.

What minimal color there was drained from her face.

“Oh,” she whispered.

“I’m not _dating_ Chat Noir,” Adrien answered. “I’m…” _Say the words_. He felt them building in his mouth like a bad taste, poisoning his tongue, making him want to lurch over and be ill. _You’ve come this far. Just say it_. Adrien shut his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the rejection in her eyes when he told her, and in the firmest tone he’d ever said anything before, he announced, just like the day they’d teamed up, “Nice to meet you, my lady. I’m Chat Noir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day. I was quite ready to introduce these scenes today, so I wanted to get them up as soon as possible. I'm hopeful that everyone enjoyed them, and I hope to have chapter 9 up as soon as possible.
> 
> Adrien's let the cat out of the bag. Now all we have to do is wonder, what could Marinette's reaction be? How will she react to this shocking revelation?
> 
> Stay strong, everyone!


	9. Chapter 9

Marinette dropped a handful of tea leaves into a pearl-colored teapot with a looping, orange design. Adrien saw her carefully pour boiling water from a kettle into the pot. Steam swirled from the spout.

Adrien had always found Marinette’s home to be a unique place. Beneath the floorboards, he could hear the faint sounds of Marinette’s parents’ bakery—the bell clinking as the door opened, the register singing, Mrs. Cheng’s gentle voice carrying on conversations with enthusiastic customers.

There was something comforting about the sound of life all around him. At his own home, everything was usually quiet. The housekeepers and chefs were instructed to make as little noise as possible, and even though he knew the house bustled with dozens of people, Adrien always felt alone there.

But this was no time to think about home. He needed to focus on the task at hand—explaining to Marinette how he’d come to learn her secret, and why he’d given up his own.

He cringed at the memory of what had happened. When he told Marinette he was Chat Noir, her expression had immediately changed. He’d seen that same look on Ladybug’s face before. It was about a year ago, on the night they teamed up. That was the first time either of them had laid eyes on an akuma. Even months later, he could remember the way her eyes widened into dark saucers, the color drained from her lips, and she stood with her hands limp at her sides.

He’d only seen it for a moment. Ladybug’s expression had quickly hardened into one of determination, but he would remember that look forever. He’d never wanted to see it on his lady again.

And yet as her gaze landed on his ring, he’d watched it return.

Adrien swallowed back a sudden wave of nausea. He was sitting at the table in Marinette’s kitchen above the bakery, a plate of Mr. Dupain’s famous croissants in front of him. He nibbled on one of them, to be polite, but he had no stomach for snacks now.

With their lunch break being as long as it was, Marinette had insisted that they go back to her house and talk. The lunch rush was often a busy time for her parents—there would be less chance of people overhearing.

He owed her an explanation. So he’d followed her back to the bakery, neither of them speaking, wondering why he’d thought this was a good idea.

_You really have to stop thinking like that_. Adrien set his half-eaten croissant on a napkin and watched Marinette walk over with the teapot in hand. Her expression was less surprised than it had been, but she wasn’t her acting like her usual self.

Marinette filled two white cups with steaming, fragrant tea, and set one in front of Adrien. He thanked her with a nod, and Marinette took her seat across the table.

“OK,” she said, and Adrien lifted his head at the sound of her voice. “So, you’re Chat Noir.”

“Yes,” said Adrien.

“And you know that I’m Ladybug.”

“Yes.”

Marinette peered down at the steam billowing out of her cup. “How long have you known?”

“Since yesterday.” Adrien watched Marinette reach across the table and pluck one of the croissants off the plate. She turned it over with her long, pale fingers, and placed it on a napkin in front of her. “I figured it out when we were fighting that akuma.”

Marinette folded her hands in front of her. She reminded him so much of Ladybug now; the calm, in control side of her personality. How could she be so calm? Adrien felt as if the whole world were caving in around him. His heart pounded like a stone behind his ribs.

“I think I owe you an apology, then,” Marinette said. She chewed on her lower lip and refused to meet his eye. She had a slight blush to her face, and no longer seemed as in control of the conversation. “I jumped to conclusions, and they were...very, _very_ wrong.”

A shocked laugh bubbled out of Adrien’s throat. “It’s, um, it’s OK, Marinette. I, uh, can see why you would think that. Chloé’s rumors are usually wrong...but she can make people wonder.”

“Yes, Chloé…” Marinette’s expression darkened for a brief moment. Adrien knew her dislike of the other girl ran deep, and now that he thought about it, he remembered a few times when it had slipped through in her Ladybug persona. “She really knows how to get under people’s skin.”

Adrien took a small bite of his croissant. “That she does.”

They lapsed into a brief silence, and Adrien was grateful to find it wasn’t so awkward now. Maybe this was all that they needed—a little push in the right direction. Now that the elephant in the room had been addressed, maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he’d convinced himself it would be. Marinette certainly didn’t hate him. Why would she take him to her home and offer him tea and croissants if she hated him?

Adrien felt a small amount of movement at his hip. He bit back a curse. He’d forgotten about Plagg! Now that their secrets were right out on the table, he didn’t have to worry about keeping the kwami a secret anymore.

“I have something to show you,” he said urgently. “Or, rather, I have _someone_ to show you.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows. “Your kwami?”

“Mm-hmm.” Adrien reached into his book bag and fished around until he felt something warm and small. “Come on, Plagg,” he murmured. “Time for introductions.”

Plagg’s reflective green eyes peered out at him from the darkness. “It’s not too late,” he whispered back. “There’s still time to retreat.”

Adrien didn’t see how, now that Marinette knew he and Chat Noir were the same person. He put on the best smile he could and said, “It’s OK, Plagg. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

The kwami crawled onto his palm with an irritated grumble. Adrien gingerly lifted him out of the book bag and set his hand palm-up on the table. “Marinette,” he said in a proud voice, “I’d like you to officially meet my kwami. His name is Plagg. Plagg, this is Marinette.”

Adrien felt a little thrum of pride as Marinette stared transfixed at Plagg. She had her own kwami, and Adrien had a deep appreciation for the things Plagg did, but there were times when he’d felt irritated, annoyed, or sometimes even ashamed of his kwami. It was nice to know that someone else could find Plagg worthy of admiration.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” said Marinette. Her lips drew back into a polite, radiant smile. Adrien felt his chest seize, but this time it didn’t hurt.

Plagg narrowed his eyes. He gave Marinette a once-over, sweeping his gaze to the black studs in her ears. After a moment, he exhaled and quirked his shoulders in a halfhearted attempt at a shrug. “Yeah, yeah, nice to meet you, too, kid.”

Adrien frowned. The sarcastic tone wasn’t necessary, but he supposed there was little to do with Plagg’s attitude. He was a snob, after all—and after a year of putting up with his nonsense, Adrien shouldn’t have been surprised. At least Marinette didn’t seem offended. Adrien offered her an apologetic smile. He wondered if her kwami had a similar temperament.

“You’ll probably want to meet Tikki, then,” said Marinette. She opened the pink bag hanging off the back of her chair and murmured, “It’s all right, sweetie. Time to say ‘hello’.”

For a moment, nothing happened. And then, very slowly, a tiny red shape with black spots rose from Marinette’s purse. Adrien’s jaw dropped against his will. She was a kwami, no doubt—tiny and hovering, with the biggest eyes he’d ever seen. The irises were an impossibly dark shade of blue, and he chanced a glance at Marinette. Her own eyes lit up.

The little ladybug kwami floated down to land gently on the table. Smiling up at Adrien, she chirped, “Hello. My name is Tikki. It’s very nice to officially meet you, Adrien.”

“Y—yeah.” Adrien bent the tips of his fingers in a small wave. “It’s—it’s nice to meet you, too.”

Tikki flashed him another radiant smile. Adrien felt a sudden surge of warmth blast through his senses. He’d felt this before. The first time he’d transformed without pain, he’d felt it. When he’d teamed up with Ladybug, he’d felt it. As he spoke with Marinette and gradually moved beyond the awkward conversational barrier, he’d felt it. It made him...happy. It was as if there were a small person nestled deep inside his brain, and with only a push of a button, they could send bolts of emotion through him.

And then Tikki turned to regard the other kwami, hovering above the table, and her expression dimmed. Her lips drew into a thin line. Her irises darkened. “Plagg.”

His emerald eyes flickered. “Tikki.”

Marinette frowned and gave Adrien a confused look.

Adrien shrugged.

Plagg and Tikki stared at each other for an uninterrupted moment. Then Plagg turned to Adrien. He had a simple, disinterested look on his face; something in the way his pupils narrowed made Adrien sit up straight. “Your lunch break is almost over,” he said. “Also, you’re out of camembert.”

“Oh, sorry.” Adrien reached for his half-eaten croissant. “Do you want some—” But Plagg had already disappeared back into his book bag.

Tikki made an odd sound, as if she were exhaling sharply. “He’s right. You need to get back to class soon. We’ll have some time to talk together later.” She gave Adrien’s book bag a strange look, and then turned to Marinette.

“OK,” Marinette opened up her purse. “Um, Tikki, is everything—?”

But Tikki fluttered into her purse without a word.

Marinette closed it and slowly lifted her eyes to Adrien’s. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Her eyes flashed, and she mouthed, ‘ _What was that about?_ ’

Adrien shrugged. He’d never seen Plagg act like that before. Sure, he could be rude and insensitive at times, but he’d never been distant. He suspected Plagg and Ladybug’s kwami probably knew each other; if Chat Noir and Ladybug had been a crime-fighting duo for as long as Plagg claimed to be alive, it stood to reason that they would have crossed paths at least once.

Was it possible that Tikki and Plagg were fighting? Had something happened to cause them to have a major falling out? He tried to think back to any conversations he may have had with Plagg about other Chat Noirs. Nothing came to mind.

He and Marinette sat silently and finished their tea and croissants. Adrien set his empty cup on the table. He still had to ask Marinette about how she’d become Ladybug. He’d told her about the black cat dream that’d led him to discovering Chat Noir’s ring. And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about how Marinette had uncovered her own unique abilities.

Marinette cleared away the table and set the dirty dishes in the sink. Scrawling a quick note to assure her parents they would be cleaned the moment she got home, she snatched her book bag and purse from the chair. “Come on. We can talk on the way to school.” She paused and gave Adrien’s bag a quick glance. “I think we have even more to talk about now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. I am very sorry for the late update to "Miscommunication". Things have been a little hectic with school and with a surprise trip to the ER for some breathing problems, but hopefully with Spring Break right around the corner I will be back into some relatively quick updates.
> 
> I am thankful to everyone who has been supportive of this story. I wanted to have it done in time for Miraculous March, but I am just glad to have it up at all.
> 
> I look forward to seeing you all in the next chapter! Have an excellent day!


	10. Chapter 10

“It was about a year ago,” Marinette was saying. They walked down the sidewalk, Marinette tucked in close to the buildings while Adrien attempted to balance on the curb.

He attempted to distract himself from the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He’d already given Marinette some of the details of his own origin story—not exactly anything too extravagant, but hey, it was his. He had to own it. In time he would tell her the whole thing: about the strange voice he’d heard; the feeling that he was being watched; and the way taking hold of Chat Noir’s ring had put an end to all of it.

It was nice to let someone else be in the limelight for once. Being a model, Adrien was always being watched. The center of attention. It was nice, at first. But recently, he’d found himself wishing he could just push PAUSE on the whole thing for a little while.

“You said you had dreams before you found your ring, didn’t you?” asked Marinette. Adrien did a little turn on the curb, almost falling, and nodded.

It felt nice to act how he wanted now. Since Marinette knew he was Chat Noir, he wondered if she was beginning to notice similarities between the two. When he’d figured out she was Ladybug the other night, he couldn’t stop himself from noticing little details in Marinette’s facial expression, gestures, and tone that he realized he should have picked up on ages ago.

Marinette gestured vaguely. “I didn’t have dreams, per se, but there was a sort of...I don’t know, a pull?” She put the tips of her fingers together and slowly dragged them apart. “Sort of like there was an invisible string connected to my wrist. It was weird at first—but as the days went on, it got tighter and tighter. I thought about going to get it checked out by a doctor.”

Adrien nodded. He hadn’t experienced the same “pull” that Marinette was talking about, but when _those things_ had started long before he’d found Plagg’s ring, he’d thought something was going wrong with him, too. He’d been worried that maybe they were the results of panic attacks; things weren’t the same after his mother disappeared. He tried not to think about her, but every now and again a flare of pain would swell through him. With his mother, at least he’d had _someone_.

Marinette didn’t seem near as troubled by all this as Adrien had been worried she would be. He was happy about that. He’d spent so long agonizing about Marinette hating him—it was a relief to see Ladybug’s calm demeanor in times like this. Though, he supposed, that was how Marinette had always been.

“The pull didn’t go away,” Marinette continued. “It was like someone had tied a string around my heart and every now and again, it would tighten. Like it was trying to lead me somewhere.” Her eyes lit up as she saw something in her mind’s eye Adrien couldn’t picture—he tried to imagine Marinette walking around, feeling something deep in her core that she couldn’t understand. “And one day, I just got so fed up with it. After school, I decided to follow the pull.

“It led me all over the place. I started to feel a little strange, walking around with no idea where I’d end up. I don’t know how to describe what I felt when I started getting closer…” Her expression softened. “It was almost like a warm gust of wind, bathing over me. Whatever fears I’d had about that pulling sensation, they went away. Before I knew it, I’d ended up in the Champ de Mars.”

Adrien watched her reach up and press the tip of her fingers to the black stud in her right ear. He unconsciously covered his ring. _This_ he understood—the surge of power that came from the Miraculous.

Marinette murmured, “I found my Miraculous in a box on one of the benches. The pull led me to it. And when I opened the box...I found Tikki.”

Adrien thought of Ladybug’s kwami. She was a beautiful creature: ruby red with the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen. _Well_ , he thought, feeling his face flush, _maybe not the most beautiful_. Tikki was friendly and kind, and as soon as he saw her, he’d been able to sense how powerful she was. Like Plagg, she seemed to wear power like an aura.

_Plagg_. Adrien frowned at the memory of how his kwami and Tikki had glared at each other. Plagg was naturally rude, but Tikki’s friendly attitude had gone from one-hundred to zero in two seconds. Something had _definitely_ happened between the two of them.

He tapped the side of his book bag. He would ask Plagg about it later. It probably wouldn’t accomplish anything to try and talk to him now. They were heading back to school, and besides, with Tikki tucked away safe in Marinette’s book bag, Adrien doubted Plagg would want to talk about it.

Adrien looked up as the Collège Françoise Dupont loomed into view. He hadn’t even realized how close they’d been getting.

He turned to Marinette and saw her watching him out of the corner of her eye. He gave her a small smile. He tried to picture how she must see him—he felt pale and small, not at all like the air of power and knowledge that Chat Noir portrayed. Adrien would have preferred to feel like that. Everything was fine. He’d managed to tell Marinette the truth, and she didn’t hate him. More than that, she’d trusted him enough to tell him her origin story. He felt giddy and self-conscious and awkward and happy beyond words.

He and Marinette were friends. They were partners. They’d fought crime together for over a year, and now they knew each other’s deepest secrets.

As they approached the steps of the school, Adrien looked at his new friend and suddenly felt as if she was far away. He could barely comprehend all the things they’d talked about. Their kwamis hated each other. Marinette had superpowers and so did he. But one thing was clear—they were both Miraculous. They had both been chosen by ancient powers to conquer the forces of evil.

Marinette drew in a deep breath. “Well, since we’ve established who we are and what we’re doing…” Her cheeks were a lovely shade of pink, and Adrien felt an electric shock dance through him. Marinette fished around in her book bag and pulled out her cell phone. “Would you, um, be okay with exchanging numbers? We have our kwami, but, given the circumstances…”

“O—oh, yeah, sure, no problem.” Adrien grasped for his own cell phone. Why did he feel so nervous? His hands trembled over the screen as Marinette gave him her number. With her contact information safely stored within his phone, he composed a message and sent her a simple: _Hi_.

He watched Marinette add his number to her contacts. He’d never noticed before, but when she was concentrating she stuck her tongue out to the side. It was cute.

Adrien drew in a sharp, sudden breath. Warmth blasted through him. He’d never felt more awake. No matter what came next, regardless of the akumas Hawk Moth sent after them, he and Marinette would face it together. Adrien felt a stinging sensation behind his eyes. _We can do this. Marinette and I, we’re a team—we’ve always been a team_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Miraculous March, everyone! Here's hoping that you all are having a great week. I am very sorry for the delay in this chapter. Not a lot happened in this one, but I am hoping that everyone will be pleased with the next one.
> 
> I am feeling much better after my trip to the ER last week. I'm able to breathe better now. There's no pain associated with it anymore, so that's good.
> 
> Thank you all for your constant support on "Miscommunication". You've all been wonderful, and I hope that I continue to please you guys with my writing. Have an excellent day, everyone, and I shall see you all in the next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

Adrien slumped down in his chair. He was sitting at the dining room table, where he’d finished eating dinner alone. The table was set beautifully—a perfectly white tablecloth and elegant red china—but it didn’t make him feel much better. How could a day that had turned out so well suddenly take such an awful turn?

It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it. He usually ate his meals alone. Nathalie had been strictly instructed to eat with the other members of Gabriel Agreste’s staff. As much as Adrien would have loved to have some company, he knew it would be pointless to ask.

He couldn’t help the way he was feeling—trapped, abandoned, and angry at his father. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t also a little bit irritated at how Plagg had been acting.

Since school had ended a few hours ago, the kwami had been absolutely quiet. He’d spent the remainder of school tucked away in Adrien’s book bag. He didn’t peek his head out or try to mess around with Adrien’s phone. While it was usually annoying, Adrien had to admit the lack of it had him worried. Plagg was mischievous. He was loud. He was not... _this_.

Adrien watched as Nathalie wandered into the dining room to check on him. “Hey, Nathalie,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “Dinner was good.” He rested his chin on his hands. It was difficult to fake happiness when he felt so bummed out.

Nathalie nodded once. “I will pass on your message to the chef.” Her hair was cut short, and she wore big, gold hoops and a pale lavender pantsuit. She looked pretty, adrien thought. She would have looked prettier if she had been smiling—but he couldn’t remember a time when Nathalie had ever smiled.

Adrien didn’t feel hungry, but he thought about heading to the kitchen and snagging some camembert for Plagg. If he was going to be asking for information, he knew he’d been a bribe.

Nathalie looked at him with her expressionless face. “Your father sends his apologies that he could not join you for dinner.”

It was mechanical, robotic—the same thing she said every time his father couldn’t come to dinner. Which was more often than not. Adrien couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat down with his father and had a meal together. “It’s not like I’m not used to it,” he grumbled, more to himself than to Nathalie.

Nathalie’s eyes flickered behind her spectacles. “I understand it has been difficult for you. I can arrange a time for you and your father to have lunch together, provided your schedules—”

“No, that’s not necessary, Nathalie, thank you.” Adrien stood up suddenly. He squeezed his napkin in frustration and tossed it onto the table. “I’m going to bed.”

Nathalie’s expression transformed briefly into a look of shock. Adrien knew she hadn’t been expecting him to lash out, but he was furious. His day had been going so well until he’d come home. He’d managed to tell Marinette the truth. She’d accepted it and trusted him with her identity. He was happy. And now he had to come home and be ignored, again.

“Adrien,” Nathalie said gently, “I know you’re upset, but you must understand, your father is a very busy man. I’m sure he thinks about you all the time, and that he regrets—”

“Goodnight, Nathalie.” Adrien turned and headed toward the door. He imagined Nathalie was probably trying to think of something to say to him to make him not leave angry. But he wouldn’t turn around. He was too irritated with his father. He just had to go and ruin Adrien’s day, didn’t he? He let the door slam shut behind him with a loud _BANG!_

Adrien tromped up the stairs to his massive bedroom. Gabriel Agreste had ordered Nathalie to place a Lily of the Valley scented candle in every room, as it had been Adrien’s mother’s favorite. That had been before he’d begun to distance himself. Adrien knew the scent was supposed to be comforting, but it only made his nose itch. He stifled a sneeze.

He despised how he was acting. It wasn’t Nathalie’s fault his father couldn’t find the time to see him. He knew she was trying, and when he’d calmed down, he would apologize.

He couldn’t focus on that now. In his bedroom, Plagg was moping. Adrien had to figure out what was going on between him and Ladybug’s kwami.

Adrien slipped into his bedroom and let the door fall shut with a _click_. He drew in a deep breath and looked around. Clothes were heaped on the floor, tossed about by Plagg in a desperate attempt to create a warm sleeping space. The sky just beyond the massive windows was beginning to darken. Adrien spotted a handful of stars tossed into the abyss.

Toeing around through piles of fabric, Adrien moved across the room to his bed. He patted the thick comforters in search of Plagg before sitting down. The kwami enjoyed burying himself beneath anything he could find—it wasn’t uncommon for Adrien to accidentally step on him.

Adrien sat cross-legged on his bed. “Plagg, are you here?” He briefly thought about heading down to the kitchen to grab some camembert, cursing himself for forgetting, and realized he didn’t want to risk running into Nathalie.

It was unusually quiet. Adrien’s heart dropped to his feet. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He wondered if he should text Marinette and ask her what to do. His mouth went dry at the thought. He still couldn’t believe how well things had gone.

After a moment, a discarded tee shirt next to his desk twitched. A pair of gleaming green eyes peered out. Adrien put on his most comforting smile. The last thing he wanted was to look accusatory. Whatever was going on, it was very clear that Plagg was upset. He’d never seen the kwami like this—he had to approach the subject calmly. Plagg emerged from beneath the shirt.

Adrien fingered his cell phone, unsure of how he should proceed. He couldn’t just come out and say, _So, you and Tikki hate each other?_ Though he had to admit he wasn’t the most tactful person in the world, he knew better than to be outside insensitive.

He cast a glance at the couch in the middle of his room. He could barely make out his reflection in the flatscreen. What exactly was he going to say? As he watched Plagg flutter toward the bed, Adrien felt his mouth go dry. He’d never been confronted with a situation like this. He’d never been in a situation where he’d needed to take on the role of mediator. And how exactly did one go about trying to help two age-old, all-powerful beings work through an issue he knew nothing about?

“Yes?” Plagg asked testily. He perched on the end of Adrien’s bed. His tiny black tail twitched back and forth—a universal sign that a cat was irritated.

“Um,” said Adrien, looking down at his hands. “So, uh, it’s—a lot of stuff happened today.”

“It did,” Plagg agreed.

“A lot of good stuff,” Adrien clarified. “Marinette and I know each other’s secrets. And now that we know that, we can work to try and stop Hawk Moth.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Adrien exhaled through his nose. _OK_ , he said to himself, _so Plagg’s giving one-word answers. That’s fine. I can work with this. Marinette and I need to work together to defeat Hawk Moth. And if our kwamis hate each other, things might be difficult. So, what should I do?_ He edged a bit closer to where his kwami was sitting. _Just remember: go slow. Don’t push him_.

Plagg gave him a once-over. “You’re acting weird.”

Adrien shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

“You are.” Plagg’s glimmering green eyes narrowed. “You’re up to something.”

“What? Me?” Adrien tried his best to look innocent. “No, I’m just trying to be nice. You seem like something’s bothering you, and if there’s anything I can—”

“We're _not_ discussing this.” Plagg stuck his nose into the air with a huff and slid off the bed.

“Wait—” Adrien started to scramble off his bed. “Plagg, I’m not trying to—” But Plagg slipped beneath one of his discarded tee shirts, and Adrien knew he’d get no more conversation out of the kwami.

He sat back on his bed with a sigh. Well, _that_ was a bust.

Adrien threaded his fingers through his hair and tugged. He cast a desperate look at his phone. The clock read 7:15 PM in big white letters. He had a little less than two hours before he and Ladybug were supposed to meet and go on patrol. He flopped back on his bed. He supposed he could spare a few moments and just relax. If Plagg wasn’t going to talk to him, he might as well try to catch up on some of the sleep he’d missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support on "Miscommunication"! I apologize for a not-so-very-eventful chapter, but I think the next one will make up for it.
> 
> We have come to understand that Plagg really doesn't want to talk about whatever's going on between him and Tikki. So what's Adrien going to do now?
> 
> I hope everyone will be pleased with the next chapter! Thank you all for continuing to support me and my work. I am very happy with how it has turned out.


	12. Chapter 12

Adrien stared into complete and utter darkness. He had no idea where he was or how he’d arrived there. The air was heavy and dank and smelled like metal. It reminded him of Paris after an intense thunderstorm.

He tried to remember what had happened. He had been sitting in his room, trying to relax before he had to go out on patrol with Marinette. Had he fallen asleep? He raised his head to stare up at the darkness. To his surprise, there was a bit of brightness.

It was a luminous green—like his eyes, like Plagg’s eyes, like the paw pad on his ring when he became Chat Noir. It was shaped like a star, so impossibly high that Adrien wasn’t surprised its light hadn’t leaked down to him.

This was like the nightmares he used to have before he found his Miraculous. The imposing blackness, the sudden confusion about where he was, the green light—it was all coming back to him. If he stayed here, the screaming would start. He’d hear those voices again.

Breathing in raspy gasps, Adrien tried to take a step forward. His feet were cemented in place. Cold bolts of fear shot through him. He couldn’t be back here. These nightmares had stopped after he’d found Chat Noir’s ring. This couldn’t be happening again.

Adrien stifled a terrified sob and tried to jerk his arm. Nothing. He had to get out of here. The screams would start if he didn’t wake up soon.

“Help…” His voice echoed out into the darkness. Adrien was alone. He felt as if his body were constricting, the dark abyss closing in around him. He’d hear them soon—the pleas for help, the cries for mercy. “Please,” he choked, “I need to wake up.”

Adrien felt as if he were reaching into the darkness for something specific. He felt a tightening sensation on each of his fingers. He thought he saw something emerging, building inside the abyss.

His heart grinded to a halt. Whatever was coming, he was not prepared for it. He couldn’t turn into Chat Noir. The screaming was going to start. He was trapped and alone and frightened and he just wanted to wake up why wasn’t he waking up he needed to wake up—

A figure rose from the darkness, directly in front of him. Adrien drew in a harsh breath. It was a man. He held a pale green lantern, the eerie glow casting deep shadows across his marble face. His pale body was sheathed in a black ensemble that glistened and shimmered like the wings of a beetle. An elaborate halo of gold locks cascaded over his shoulders. Adrien couldn’t stop gaping at him. The man was inhumanly beautiful—skin the color of porcelain, a pointed chin, and wide-set green eyes with needle-thin pupils, just like…

“Who…?” Adrien tried to take a step back, but his legs were cemented in place. “But...who are you…?”

“The Miraculous,” said the man. “Take Ladybug’s Miraculous.”

Adrien felt his throat close up. He thought immediately of Marinette: her dark blue eyes, the friendly smile on her lips, and the way she made his heart swell. _Take Ladybug’s Miraculous_. He thought of every akuma Hawk Moth had ever sent after them. Could this man be Hawk Moth? He certainly didn’t look or sound anything like Adrien thought he would.

“Why do you want the Miraculous?” asked Adrien. “Who are you?”

“Take Ladybug’s Miraculous,” repeated the man, “and shatter it.”

“What?” Adrien exclaimed. “I don’t understand—who are you? What’s going on?”

The man raised his hand—Adrien saw they were claws, like his hands when he became Chat Noir—and suddenly the darkness vanished into a flood of light.

Adrien bolted upright in his bed with a loud gasp. His heart hammered in his ears. His hands trembled, and when he went to look around, for a moment, he had no idea where he was. After a moment, he recognized the white couch on the other side of his room, the impossibly huge windows and the wrap-around library.

And then, he noticed something he didn’t expect to see.

Gabriel Agreste stood at the foot of his bed. His brow creased as Adrien locked eyes with him. Adrien straightened his back and reached a hand up to smooth out his hair. “It is not usually so difficult to wake you.” Gabriel gave him a once-over. “You seemed distressed. Are you all right?”

“Just a bad dream,” Adrien said.

“You haven’t had one for a while.”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.” Underneath the blankets, he shifted his toes. Something warm brushed against his skin—Plagg. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. If Plagg was buried deep beneath the heaps blankets, there was little chance of Gabriel noticing him. “Um, is something wrong, Father?”

Gabriel folded his hands in front of himself. He was dressed in a tailored, off-white suit with blue accents. He must have just come from a dinner party of some sort. “We need to talk.” His steel-colored eyes flashed behind his spectacles. “It has come to my attention that you have…”

He trailed off and pressed his lips into a thin line. Adrien placed his hands on top of his blankets. “That I have _what_ , Father?”

Gabriel pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “How serious are things with Chat Noir?”

Adrien felt as if an akuma had smacked him into a wall. The breath seized in his throat. His heart stilled. A prickling sensation danced across his cheeks. He blinked several times. “I—I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “What are you talking about?”

“It has come to my attention,” Gabriel went on, “through a very reliable source, that you and Chat Noir are, ahem, involved.”

“Oh, my God.” Adrien buried his face in his hands. “Father, are you kidding me?”

“And while I am certain Chat Noir is a...wonderful individual…” Gabriel’s nose wrinkled, as if saying the name left a bad taste in his mouth. “I am concerned about your well-being.”

“It’s not like that.” Adrien pressed his knuckles against his closed eyelids until he saw red and blue spots. “Father, did Chloé tell you about this?”

Gabriel lowered his hands to his sides. “She has expressed concern for your situation. While Chat Noir may be one of Paris’s finest protectors, I am not so certain I am comfortable with you maintaining an...intimate relationship with him.”

“ _There isn’t an intimate relationship!_ ”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Adrien felt his face flush. He lowered his head. “F—forgive me for raising my voice, Father. But, really, there’s nothing going on. Chat Noir and I are friends. And as for what Chloé saw, he had a question about a possible akuma attack. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Gabriel scoffed. “I find it difficult to believe he would come into your room at eleven o’clock in the evening to simply ‘ask about a possible akuma’.”

“I don’t know, Father.” Adrien pressed his palms against his forehead and exhaled. How the heck had Chloé managed to convince his father that he and Chat Noir were dating? He thought he’d managed to shut down that irritating little rumor. “But it’s not true,” Adrien went on. “Chat Noir and I are friends. There’s nothing intimate between us. That’s just a rumor Chloé made up.”

“And what reason would Mayor Bourgeois's daughter have to make up such a ludicrous story? I thought she was a friend of yours.”

_Oh, if only you knew_. “Things change, Father. But it’s not what you think.”

“I see.” Gabriel Agreste nodded once and took a step back. “In that case, I apologize for the misunderstanding. I will speak to Mayor Bourgeois about his daughter’s actions. I’m certain he will see to a fitting punishment.”

“Really, Father, there’s no need for that. Chloé is...Well, she’s nothing I can’t handle on my own. But thank you. I do appreciate it.”

Gabriel Agreste gave a firm nod. “Then I am sorry to have disturbed you. Have a good night.”

He turned to leave, and Adrien reached out without thinking. “Ah, Father, wait!” When Gabriel turned, Adrien felt his mouth go dry. What did he want to say? He’d been preparing for an opportunity like this for some time now, but now that he was presented with it, he had no idea what to say.

“Yes?”

“Um.” Adrien rubbed nervously at his wrists. “I, um, I was wondering if...Well, I don’t know if Nathalie talked to you, but you weren’t at dinner tonight...again...and I was wondering if you had some availability sometime, if you would want to…”

Gabriel turned away and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I will have Nathalie set aside a time in which we are both available. Perhaps we can have lunch together then. My schedule is pretty busy. Yours is as well. You do have a photo-shoot two days from now, do you not?”

Adrien’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, Father.”

“Then perhaps, after that, Nathalie can find some time for us to meet up for lunch.”

Adrien felt a confusing mixture of happiness and sorrow. “Yes, Father. Thank you.”

“Mm.” Gabriel Agreste turned away from him. “Have a good night.”

Adrien watched as his father disappeared around the corner. As soon as the door clicked shut, he flopped down on his bed with a loud, defeated sigh. _Great_. He’d managed to get his father alone for more than two seconds, and he stuttered. He doubted he and his father would be having lunch together after his photo shoot. Something would come up, as usual, and his father would have to cancel.

Plagg wriggled between Adrien’s feet. He moved through the sea of blankets, over Adrien’s thighs, and poked his head out from underneath the blankets. Adrien looked down at him.

“You wouldn’t wake up,” said Plagg.

“Yeah,” Adrien said, “that’s so weird. I’m not usually that hard to wake up.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “I was having a nightmare...I think.”

Plagg crawled from beneath the blankets, and Adrien scooped him up in his palms. Plagg’s lips were pressed into a thin, gray line. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine. I just…” Adrien tried to remember what he’d been dreaming of. He remembered being trapped in total darkness, and just when he’d thought he’d succumb to despair, there’d been someone. Someone he recognized. He saw a brief flash of a face, but when he tried to chase it, it slipped away. “I don’t remember.”

Plagg looked up at him. After a moment, he exhaled and shook his head. “Well, you should probably call Ladybug. You were supposed to meet her an hour and a half ago.”

“Wait, _what?_ ” Adrien snatched up his phone. White numbers flashed 10:47 PM, and below his screen was flooded with missed calls and texts from Marinette. “Dammit!”

Adrien scrambled out of bed, tripping over himself. He picked himself up off the floor and hurried to the bathroom, aiming an irritated “Why didn’t you wake me up? We were supposed to go patrolling at nine!” over his shoulder.

“I tried!” Plagg shouted back. “I told you, you wouldn’t wake up!”

Adrien hopped into the shower, scrubbed shampoo and conditioner through his hair, and then stormed around the room with his hair dripping in his eyes. “Well, whatever. We can’t keep Ladybug waiting. Plagg, Claws Out!”

As the kwami was drawn into the ring, as the tingling sensation of power skittered across his body, Adrien couldn’t help the sudden overwhelming urgency that came with it. He had to do...something. He thought briefly of a pale face, shimmering green eyes, and lips forming a command. But he couldn’t remember it. He shook it off. It was probably nothing.


	13. Chapter 13

Chat Noir felt uneasy. Standing on the metal rafters of the Eiffel Tower, staring out over the glittering jewels of light decorating the city of Paris, he swore there were dark eyes locked on him. He had no doubt that Hawk Moth could watch him when he was out here—watch him and observe him and formulate ways to take him and Ladybug down.

He could not shake the feeling of dread that settled in his stomach. Hawk Moth’s akuma were growing stronger by the day. Each one Chat Noir and Ladybug challenged was harder to stop than the last. Despite his months of training, his weeks of experience, and his connection with Ladybug, every time they went up against an akuma was beginning to feel like the first time again.

Chat drew in a deep breath, and shivered. Winter was fast approaching. He wished he’d grabbed his scarf before he’d come out here. But he’d dealt with enough problems the past few days, and he was sure if his father saw the scarf he’d bought Adrien wrapped around Chat Noir’s neck, he wouldn’t be able to explain his way out of it.

_I could always tell him the truth_ , he thought, but quickly shook it aside. His father was overprotective enough as it was. If he found out that Adrien spent the better part of his day hurtling off roofs and risking his life for the greater good, he’d be locked away in his room for the rest of his life.

: _He wouldn’t really do that, would he?_ : came Plagg’s voice, deep in the back of his skull.

“He might,” Chat replied quietly. Gabriel Agreste hadn’t been the same since Adrien’s mother disappeared. One day she was there, and the next she wasn’t—plucked away as if she’d never existed. The only thing he had left of her now were pictures.

He missed her more than he let on. If his mother were here, he would be able to tell her that he was Chat Noir. She would understand. And if his mother were still here, maybe he would have had the strength to tell his father the truth, too.

Chat winced as a sudden, sharp pain zipped through his chest. He brought a gloved hand to his chest; his heart pounded beneath his palm...but now that he focused, his right ring finger felt stiff and sore.

: _Adrien?_ :

“I'm good.” Chat drew his hand away and peered down at his ring. Four green paw pads winked back at him. The ring was like a weight, constricting his finger. It did not hurt enough to make him want to remove it—but the ache was familiar in a way he couldn’t place. The backs of his eyes stung. _What the heck’s going on?_? He shook his head; he was probably tired, that was all.

A light thump touched down on the other end of the metal rafter. “Fashionably late, kitty?”

The pain in Chat’s chest dissipated. The heavy weight around his finger vanished. He was back to himself; with a sigh of relief, he turned to Ladybug. “Sorry, my lady. Got a little, er, sidetracked.”

Ladybug walked over to him, slowly, gracefully—in every way that Marinette couldn’t. Chat was no stranger to the differences being in their Miraculous forms allowed. As Adrien, he was graceful. As Chat Noir, no one in the world could match what he did. Ladybug, it seemed, operated in the same way. It was nice to know they had that in common, too.

“Sidetracked.” Ladybug shook her head. “Another cat nap.”

Chat shrugged. “You know we too well, my lady.” Ladybug took her place at his side. “Did anything happen while you were waiting?”

“Not really.” Ladybug sat on the beam, letting her legs dangle. In the shadows, he could barely make out the curve of her lips as she smiled. “It’s actually pretty peaceful.”

“Aw, really?” Chat reclined against one of the thick beams, shivering at the cold sensation slipping through his suit. He wished Plagg would hurry up and transform it into something better suited to the winter months. “I was hoping for at least a little action. Looks like I got out of bed for nothing.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “It’s a _good_ thing when it’s quiet, Chat.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“And besides,” she said, turning to stare out at the city below. Her expression hardened. “We don’t know when Hawk Moth will strike again. That last akuma didn’t put up much of a fight, but I get the feeling that was intentional.”

Chat raised an eyebrow. “To get us to lower our guard?”

“It’s possible.”

He snorted. “Hawk Moth isn’t _that_ smart.”

Ladybug turned to him. “How do you figure?”

Chat Noir waved his fingers in the direction of the school. The pads of his Miraculous sent an ominous green hue through the shadowy enclosure. “Just look at what he’s working with. Students. Kids. Sure, some of them have given us a challenge, but we’re getting better.”

“He uses adults, too,” Ladybug pointed out.

“Sometimes,” Chat allowed, “but mostly, he sticks to our classmates.”

Ladybug chewed on her lower lip. Now that he knew who she was, he noticed the similarities. Marinette bit her lip like that, too. How could he have missed something like that? This was the girl he’d claimed to adore for the past year, and he hadn’t been able to pinpoint even the slightest detail in her civilian persona? God, he really was an idiot.

_The girl he’d claimed to adore_...Chat’s face flushed with warmth, and he was thankful that his lady had such a hard time seeing in the dark.

“Has Plagg said anything to you?” Ladybug asked suddenly.

Chat Noir, taken aback by the sudden question, blinked rapidly. “I—I’m sorry, what?”

“Tikki won’t talk to me about what happened earlier,” Ladybug murmured, and Chat wondered if she were attempting to keep her voice down in some futile attempt to prevent the kwamis from overhearing. “You know, with her and Plagg. I was just wondering if you’d heard anything from him about it.”

“No.” Chat took a seat next to Ladybug. His shoulder accidentally bumped hers, but she didn’t flinch away, and he wondered if she’d even noticed. “Plagg won’t tell me anything, either.”

Ladybug’s brow furrowed with concern. “It’s not like Tikki to keep something to herself.”

Chat shrugged. “Everyone’s got their secrets. Whatever it was, it obviously caused them a lot of pain. Best we can do is be supportive.”

“I know.” Ladybug looked out over the twinkling lights of Paris. Sitting there, nestled among the rafters, Chat had barely noticed the cold October air. “It’s just…If Plagg and Tikki don’t like each other, why have Chat Noir and Ladybug appear in the same place? Wouldn’t they want to avoid each other?”

“Maybe they don’t have a choice.” It felt strange to be speaking about their kwami as if they weren’t able to hear it, but Chat figured they could chime in at any moment if it got out of hand. “Maybe they work for some greater power that _forced_ them to work together.”

“Maybe.” Ladybug’s tone was gentle, thoughtful. Chat wanted to reach out and give her a hug, but the more he thought about it, the more flustered he became. He couldn’t just hug Marinette like that…could he?

“Well,” Ladybug said, startling Chat out of his thoughts, “I guess we’ll just have to be there for them when they’re ready to talk.”

Chat didn’t like the idea of waiting the kwami out, but there did not seem to be any other option. “OK.” He put a palm to his forehead and exhaled. The twinges of a headache were starting to come on, and it was very cold all of a sudden. “Come on. We should probably patrol by the school.”

“I didn’t see anything when I was there,” Ladybug offered, “but it wouldn’t hurt to check again.”

Chat Noir helped her up. As he took her hand, a dark feeling crept up his spine. A dark spider crawling under his skin. He peered at Paris out of the corner of his eye and thought, for a moment, he could see a dark shape looming above it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I am extremely sorry for the sudden hiatus on "Miscommunication". There were a few things going on in my personal life that needed to be dealt with. A lot of negativity hit all at once, and between that and my father moving several states away, things have been a little bit hectic for me.
> 
> But, I am back now, and I hope to be able to continue with this story. There will be several parts to the "Hope for the Best, Prepare for the Worst" series. I hope you are all as excited as I am as we wait patiently for season two of Miraculous Ladybug.
> 
> Thank you all so much for everything that you do, and I will see you all in the next chapter. Have a fantastic day!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome back to "Miscommunication"! I apologize for the very long and very abrupt hiatus on this story. I graduated college rather recently and was thrown right out into the real world. While it has been exciting to have a place of my own and start a new job, it has been hectic as well. But I have had a longing to return to the world of fan fiction and so, it is with great pleasure that I welcome you all back.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck by me through this trying time. In the near future, I want to go back into this story and edit it a bit more. Overall, I am pleased with my product, but after rereading it many times, there are parts where I feel some improvement is necessary. I feel as though you, the reader, deserve a better product. Nothing will change plot-wise, as it is integral to the series that I am working on.
> 
> And so, without further delay, let us delve into chapter fourteen of "Miscommunication"! Enjoy, guys!

As the clocks around Paris announced the arrival of midnight, Chat Noir touched down on the small balcony atop the bakery belonging to Ladybug's parents. The dark night sky was perfectly clear, with a brilliant half moon spreading white streaks of light on top of each roof. Metal gutters glittered like silver. It was beautiful, he realized, and understood, not for the first time, why people said Paris was "magical".

Then again, he thought with a quiet laugh, he and Ladybug were living proof that magic was real. He shouldn't have been surprised. Chat Noir stole a glance down at the black ring on his finger. The gleaming green paw pads winked back at him; it gave him a familiar surge of confidence.

The loud _whiiiir_ of Ladybug's yo-yo caused his left ear attachment to flick, and then she appeared at his side. "It's surprisingly quiet," she remarked. She retracted her yo-yo and shifted it from one hand to the other. "I wonder what Hawk Moth's next akuma will be."

"Who knows." Chat Noir leaned against the railing. He shivered a cold gust of wind wafted across his cheeks, and cursed Plagg for not making his uniform warmer. "He's already akumatized everyone in our class, so he's out of material there."

Ladybug waved her hand out to the winking lights and clear skies of Paris. "Yes, but there's a whole city out there we have to protect." She folded her arms. "And any one of them could become a target."

“Yeah.”

Ladybug sighed and walked around to lean on the railing next to him. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, kitty.”

“We have each other,” Chat Noir said, placing a hand on her shoulder. He couldn’t feel anything with the thick material of his uniform on, but he hoped she felt comforted by the gesture. “As long as we continue to work as a team, we’ll stop him.”

Ladybug looked over at him and smiled. Her face lit up like a star, and Chat Noir felt his chest tighten. He wasn’t used to this—being so close to someone else, someone who trusted him perhaps more than anyone else in the world. As much as he enjoyed his privacy now and again, since he was a child, Chat Noir had wished for friends.

After his mother vanished, his father had forced Adrien to withdraw from anything that would have allowed him to be social. He’d been homeschooled, for a time, and when his nose wasn’t shoved in a text book, he was modeling for his father’s company. He was an only child and, until he’d dared to race out of the house and enroll himself in a public school, Chloé had been the only person he’d been close enough with to consider as a friend.

And yet, a year later, here he was, one of Paris’ most well-known protectors, standing next to someone who’d put more trust in him than anyone else. Even before they’d known each other’s secrets, Ladybug had placed her life in Chat Noir’s hands. She relied on him to protect her, to help her protect everyone in Paris. She hadn’t known him for long—had known nothing about who he really was, what he was really like, why he’d been so eager to accept his Miraculous—and yet she’d placed her most precious belonging in his hands.

Ladybug knocked the back of her fist against his hand, startling him from his thoughts. His hand fell from her shoulder, but when he furrowed his brow and gave her a confused glance, she was still smiling. “We have school in the morning,” she said, and jerked her chin out toward the city. “It doesn’t look like whatever Hawk Moth’s planning will be happening tonight. You should go home and catch up on your beauty sleep.”

Chat Noir feigned a horrified gasp. “Beauty sleep? _Me?_ You’re suggesting I need such a thing? My lady, you wound me!”

Ladybug rolled her eyes and gave his shoulder another playful shove. “Yeah, yeah. Go on. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

Chat Noir bowed deeply. “As you command, my lady.”

Ladybug laughed, and Chat Noir grinned. Now that he knew she was Marinette, it was easier to talk to her. Was it him, or did she seem to tolerate his sense of humor much better now? He wasn’t sure why, but she seemed much more confident when speaking with him now. Before a few days ago, Marinette would stutter and skirt around him, and Ladybug would roll her eyes at his puns. But now that he knew they were one in the same, he wondered which one was the real Marinette.

_And maybe_ , he thought with a small glimmer of hope, _maybe now she’s finally seeing the real me_. He couldn’t explain why that made him feel so warm.

“Good night, Adrien,” Ladybug said as she walked to the small trap-door leading to her bedroom.

The use of his real name caught him off guard. He was suddenly glad that Ladybug didn’t share his ability to see in the dark. “Y—yeah, you too. Um, goodnight, um, Marinette.”

She gave him one more glittering smile, and then disappeared into the bakery. Chat Noir stood watching where she’d gone, part of him wanting to follow after her, the other part wanting to run away. Whenever she smiled at him, he felt as if his feet were made of balloons. The skin at his hairline prickled with sudden sweat, and his hands were shaking.

: _Let’s go, Romeo_ ,: Plagg’s voice shrieked in the back of his mind. Chat Noir jumped and glanced around, afraid that Marinette’s parents would come hurrying to the roof and catch him there. Hero of Paris or not, he wasn’t too sure how he’d explain what he was doing outside their daughter’s bedroom at midnight. He’d already dealt with one misunderstanding. He didn’t need a second one.

“OK, OK, I’m going,” Chat Noir muttered to himself. Stealing one last glance down at Marinette’s door, he drew his metal staff from the small of his back and launched himself over the Paris rooftops. For the first time in a few days, the sudden bursts of cold wind didn’t bother him at all.

The trip back home was quick and quiet. Chat Noir had done this every night for the better part of a year and a half; he could probably find his way home with his eyes closed. He knew the best spots to land, where to go to avoid being caught in his father’s mounted security cameras, how to scurry up the side panels of the house and dash into his unlocked bedroom window without being detected.

Chloé spotting him had just been a fluke, he convinced himself. He was much more careful about where he went this time around. He’d managed to convince his father, for the time being, that there was nothing going on between him and Chat Noir, but he didn’t think he’d be so lucky if his father caught sight of Chat Noir going into his bedroom window at half past midnight.

: _I don’t really get what you’re so worried about_ ,: Plagg commented as Chat Noir ducked into one of the large decorative bushes living his family’s property. : _Your father must have explained how it works by now_.:

“How _what_ works?” Chat muttered, rolling from one bush to the other. If the cameras picked up on his movements, it would likely be written off as a squirrel.

: _Sex, obviously_.:

Chat Noir stumbled on his landing, his boot coming out the other side of the bush. He drew in back in with a quiet curse, hopefully fast enough for anyone watching the security footage not to notice it was a boot. “Plagg, are you kidding me right now?”

: _What? That’s obviously what you’re worried about. If your dad thinks you’re dating Chat Noir, then he’ll give you the sex talk. But you’re already aware of how that all works, right? So what are you so freaked out about?_ :

“That’s _not_ what I’m freaked out about!” Chat Noir snapped through his teeth. “And besides, why are we even having this conversation? How do you know anything about that, Plagg?”

:... _You’re joking with me, right?_ :

Chat Noir rolled into the bush directly beneath his bedroom window, He had only a few seconds to dart up the paneling and zip into his bedroom without the security cameras being able to detect him. He rose steadily into a crouch, straightening his spine. If he screwed up his footing even slightly, he’d fall back down, and then he’d have to explain to his father why he’d “lied” about his “relationship” with Chat Noir. He shivered at the thought of that conversation.

: _Adrien, are you kidding me? You think I don’t know anything about how humans have sex?_ :

Chat Noir winced. “Plagg, can we not talk about this right now? I’m trying to—”

: _No, we are discussing this now. I’m offended. I’ve been on this planet long before your parents were thoughts, kid, and you think I don’t know anything about sex? I have experience of my own, you know, so you’d better_ —:

“Plagg, I did _not_ need to know about that—”

: _And if you think that conversation is embarrassing, just wait until you’re actually trying to put those things into practice! You’re going to be a mess if you can’t at least talk about it without_ —:

“ _Cut it out!_ ” Chat Noir sprang, putting all his energy into where his hands would go, where his feet would catch on the wall, how he would shove the bedroom window open, dart inside, and close it without a single sound, without being caught.

The window opened without a sound, and closed just as easily. Chat Noir touched down next to one of the piles of shirts next to his computer desk, holding his hand out and whispering, “Plagg, Claws In.” The feeling of his magic retreating left him shaking and breathless and strangely cold in the middle of his heated room, and he became aware of just how exhausted he was.

Plagg floated in front of his face, a bemused look settling on his dark features. Adrien peeled himself off the floor and swatted at him as if he were an aggravating, buzzing fly. “You’re terrible, you know that right?”

“And yet you put up with me anyway.” Plagg did a little back-flip in the air.

“Yeah, yeah.” Adrien shook his head, stretching his arms over his head before rotting around on the ground for a shirt to change into. His bed would be plenty warm, so he didn’t need to change into long pants just yet. His boxers and clean tee shirt would do just fine.

Plagg levitated over toward Adrien’s desk, where a small plate of camembert was waiting for him. Adrien frowned. Did he put that there? He must have, and just didn’t remember when. In between showering and then racing out of the house to go patrolling with Marinette, he must have hurried downstairs and snatched some up.

“Don’t eat that all at once,” Adrien warned, tossing aside a blue shirt with his father’s company logo on the left sleeve. He held up a large white shirt, deemed it appropriate for sleeping, and shucked his clothes off into the hamper by his door. He shimmied the tee shirt over his head and smoothed it down his sides.

“You aren’t the boss of me,” Plagg remarked, taking a big bite out of the foul-smelling snack. Adrien wrinkled his nose, feeling an odd prickling sensation in the bridge. “And besides, you have class in the morning, so you should probably—” Plagg turned to look at him, and Adrien watched as his luminous green eyes widened with surprise. “Your nose is bleeding.”

“What?” Adrien brought the back of his hand to his nose, and when he drew it away, a streak of dark red marred the flawless white of his skin. “Oh! I didn’t even notice, I—” The prickling sensation in the bridge of his nose spread across his cheeks and behind his eyes, like tears building. The edges of his vision faded into dancing gray sparks.

Plagg dropped his half-eaten camembert. “Adrien?”

Adrien’s chest tightened, painfully, suddenly, and his knees felt weak. The gray stars spread until he could barely see Plagg. When Adrien brought his hand back to his nose, an explosion of pain zapped through his head like a bolt of lightning.

That was the final straw. Already exhausted from patrolling and dizzy from the strange feeling, Adrien’s knees crumpled, and he watched as Plagg darted toward him. “ _Adrien!_ ” He barely felt the ground when he struck it, his vision darkened to near-black. He felt his kwami fluttering around his face, heard his name called again and again, but without the strength to respond. Adrien left the darkness pull him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again, another chapter has come to close. Hopefully you all enjoyed it. I'm glad to be involved in the Miraculous Ladybug fandom once again. I've been dying to continue with this story, and am glad that I have the opportunity to. Thanks again to everyone who has stuck with this story and left kudos and comments for me. It's helped me become inspired to keep this story going!
> 
> As many of you may have noticed, there will be seventeen chapters in this story. After that, there will be a four chapter story centering primarily around Marinette and Adrien's developing relationship, and then we will dive right into the next largest installment of "Hope for the Best, Prepare for the Worst." The next two chapters will also focus on Marinette and Adrien, and the final chapter will focus on another character. I hope you're all excited for it!
> 
> See you all in the next chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, we move even closer to the ending of _Miscommunication_. My goal is to eventually go back through and update the story a little bit—which will allow me to ensure that it is the best it can be. You guys deserve the best stories, and for that reason, I want to make sure everything I write is up to your standards.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. It lays down a bit of the groundwork for what the series this fan fiction is part of will be focusing on. I'm so exciting that _Miraculous Ladybug_ will be getting a second season. I adored the Christmas special, and cannot wait for the webisodes to be released.
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter, everyone!

Adrien’s eyes opened sometime in the middle of the night. He had no idea what time it was. His phone was somewhere on his desk—he couldn’t bring it with him when he was Chat Noir and had taken to leaving it behind. He remembered that it was a little past midnight when he came home. He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there, sprawled on the floor. It could have been five minutes, or five hours.

Head heavy, as if someone had removed his skull and replaced it with stones, Adrien sat up and looked around. The room was dark except for the orange bubble of space where lights from the streets below filtered in. Outside, he could sense that it was cold. His room had its own heating unit, and it rattled quietly in the far corner.

Adrien brought a hand to his forehead. Pressure built along his hairline and behind his right eye; the remnants of a migraine. _Is that what knocked me out?_ He brought his hand up to his nose, scrubbed, and inspected it. Dried blood marked his pale, trembling fingers, but at least it wasn’t wet. He stole a glance at the pile of shirts he’d collapsed into; sure enough, a few pools of blood had dried there. He’d need to have them washed again.

The entire house was silent, except for something fluttering on the edge of his vision. He looked over and saw a patch of black hovering about in front of his face, and after a few seconds, he realized the patch of blackness was _talking_ to him.

“Adrien, Adrien, are you OK? Your nose started bleeding and you passed out and I didn’t know what to do—”

“‘m fine,” Adrien mumbled, pushing himself up off the ground. His head swam as he stood; his knees shook, but he managed to stay upright. He turned and headed toward the large private bathroom. “How long was I out?”

“Ten minutes.” Plagg followed him into the bathroom and perched on the edge of the sink. Adrien turned on the tap, wet a cloth, and scrubbed at the dried blood beneath his nose. It had streaked down to his lips.

“Ten minutes, huh,” said Adrien. He stared at his reflection. He looked...exhausted. He felt even worse. His head felt fuzzy, and there was an odd sort of warmth shooting through him. And, when he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, he could feel something else. Like a sort of pull.

And if he tuned out Plagg’s chattering and focused on the creaks and thuds echoing through the place he’d called home, he could hear...something. It wasn’t a sound, exactly, so much as the wisp of a thought. It reminded him of the nightmares he’d been plagued with before he’d become Chat Noir; and, like them, when he tried to focus on them, he couldn’t. Like a name on the tip of your tongue—he just couldn’t place it.

Adrien turned and looked out the bathroom door and into his dark bedroom. Shadows danced over the comforter draped across his bed. They were the result of the streetlights. His brow furrowed. At least, he thought they were. There was no way the shadows were little... _things_...moving about in the darkness of his room—were they?

Turning the tap off, Adrien hurried out of the bathroom. Plagg zipped behind him. The kwami wrung his small black paws. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“No, I’m fine.” If he was being honest, he wanted nothing more than to flop down face-first on his bed and go to bed. After a long night of patrols, he loved nothing more than coming home to his nice warm bedroom.

But now, he felt something tugging him toward his bedroom door. Something that wrapped around his heart like a leash. _Marinette would understand what I mean_ , he thought, and he recalled the way her fingers had affectionately brushed against her Miraculous as she told him her origin.

“Maybe you should call Marinette,” suggested Plagg, perching on the edge of the desk.

Adrien’s fingertips were frigid. He shifted them back and forth, slowly, feeling for the string wrapped around his heart. It led to the closed bedroom door, and beyond that, it pulled him somewhere. He _wanted_ to call Marinette.

He thought about wandering to the desk, picking up his cell phone, and laying out all his concerns to Marinette. And yet, as he continued to stand there, thinking about his next move, the pulling sensation grew harder to ignore.

It was late. She would probably be in bed by now. Adrien glanced at his bedroom door. He needed to get to the bottom of this. If he just went to bed, forgetting about the pulling, then he was certain he would lose his one opportunity.

Clad in his boxers and a plain black tee shirt, Adrien wandered over to the door. Plagg’s luminous green eyes watched him intently. The kwami stared at him as Adrien moved slowly over the discarded pants, shoes, books, and junk strewn across his bedroom floor.

Taking one last look around the room, he opened his bedroom door as silently as he could and let himself out. Plagg made a brief choking sound.

Adrien stood in the darkness of the hallway. Goosebumps prickled up his arms. Standing in his boxers and tee shirt, Adrien felt like an idiot. As his eyes adjusted—remarkably quick, though he suspected this was a side-effect of his Miraculous—he took in the familiar shapes of pictures hanging on the walls. Adrien’s eyes watched the darting black shapes dancing in the dim shadows.

The strange pull was back, tugging him down the hall. Adrien drifted down the hall toward the source of the tugging. The thick, expensive carpets covering the floors muffled his footsteps.

Lining the walls of the hallway was an elegant arrangement of statues. Adrien knew each of them as well as he knew his own bedroom—women in silken dresses, some cradling flowers and others twirling. His father did not particularly care for them, but they had been his mother’s creations. She’d worked night and day for months on each one; some had come before Adrien was born, and the rest were in the years of his childhood.

Adrien fought back the sudden punch of emotion that came with thinking about his mother. The night she disappeared was a blur to him—he thought he remembered a smile, a brief goodnight kiss pressed to his cheek, and then screaming and a crash that rocked the huge mansion’s foundation.

He wanted to remember more. Maybe, if he did, he would uncover some vital clue as to what had become of his mother. He’d tried many times to ask his father about that night. And yet, when he found the courage to stand in the door of his father’s study and ask, the questions died in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, he just...couldn’t find the strength to ask his father about that night.

Adrien glanced to regard the statues as he passed them. The arrangement of women stood like pillars on both sides of him. Their hands were curved into clawed talons, faces twisted in horrific snarls.

Adrien paused and stared at them. Had they always looked like that? Standing in front of his mother’s favorite—the tallest one, holding a bouquet of roses—he struggled to search for any memory of the sharp teeth and furious eyes that now glared down at him.

He took a quick step back, bumping into another of the statues. He spun to view it—and caught sight of another twisted gremlin where his mother’s beautiful statues had once been.

The tugging sensation on his heart tightened. Adrien took in a trembling breath. Something called to him from the end of the hall, where his father’s study waited, untouched and forbidden.

Even though it was midnight, Adrien wondered if his father would be awake. Was Gabriel Agreste even home tonight, or did he have another overnight business trip? The thought that his father could possibly be home—could possibly be awake, working in his study—gave Adrien a rush of courage.

Whatever had changed the statues...it was most likely the work of an akuma. Or, he decided, it could even be that he was exhausted and seeing things. He closed his eyes, shook his head to clear the fog, and hurried down the hallway without a glance back. Chat Noir couldn’t allow himself to be terrified of such things—not even in his civilian form.

Steeling his nerves and tapping into the strength that he gained whenever Plagg vanished into the ring, heavy on his finger, Adrien walked forward forcefully, as if it were his choice to go to his father’s study at half-past midnight. He would pretend he wanted to ask his father a question. He would not admit that he was just some lonely, terrified child who followed an odd tugging sensation. That thought also gave him some courage; he was Adrien Agreste, the boy who’d been chosen to be Chat Noir, and he would not be afraid.

The pressure of being a superhero was getting to him. Something about the creeping shadows made it feel as though he walked down a cavern instead of a hallway. He should have brought a flashlight with him. He could see in the dark without Chat Noir’s uniform, but having something to clutch—something to remind him that he was still _human_ —would have helped still his pounding heart.

If his father _wasn’t_ home, then Adrien would go back to bed. He’d walk back through the hall, laugh at himself for being an idiot, climb into bed, and let exhaustion take him away. Then he’d tell Marinette all about it in the morning. They’d laugh, and he’d feel better. As long as he had her by his side, he would always feel better.

He felt something behind him, then—the presence of _something there_. Adrien glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see someone looming there. An akuma—here to attack him, or to hunt down Gabriel Agreste? An intruder? He would have sensed something like that, or the security system outside would have stopped them.

But there was nothing but the hallway, and farther behind him the arrangement of statues. He squinted. Had they returned to normal? So it _was_ just his imagination. Adrien let out a shaking breath. _Maybe I should have brought Plagg with me_. The little cat wouldn’t have been able to say anything, unless Adrien wanted to risk him being discovered by whoever else was nearby, but another presence he recognized would have been comforting.

He paused, toes buried in the soft carpets. Nothing stopped him from turning around and picking Plagg up. It was only a short distance back to his room. He could pretend that he intended to bring Plagg to get some camembert from the kitchen. He turned around.

There, in the middle of the hallway, as if it had always been there, loomed an imposing figure shrouded in darkness.

Adrien was too horrified to scream. He put a hand over his mouth and bit down on his knuckles, drawing blood. If he removed them, he was positive, certain, _absolutely sure_ , he would crumple to the ground and transform into a shrieking mess.

The dark figure could have been anything—a human being or an animal or even a monster. Akumas could take on many forms.

Adrien stumbled backwards away from the thing, eyes locked on it. It didn’t move. Shaking and too afraid to make a sound, Adrien kept moving backward, backing down the hall. His foot came down hard on the carpet without a sound, but the movement sent a shivering jolt through his ankle and up his spine. He let out a surprised gasp and stumbled, slapping his right hand on the wall to stop himself.

Realizing he had taken his eye off the figure, Adrien looked back up.

It was gone.

He took a deep breath, and then sprinted the last thirty feet to the study. He reached out to grab the heavy brass handles that opened the door to his father—forgetting that he was always supposed to knock—and paused when something cold and sharp seized his heart.

The tugging sensation had vanished, but Adrien couldn’t move. He slowly raised his head to stare at the heavy doors. It was hard to tell in the dim light exactly what the intricate patterns etched into the wood looked like, but even so, Adrien felt something ominous about them. Trembling, his hands moved of their own accord and landed, palms down, on a set of grooves above the door handles.

Images flashed in front of his face—too many to catch all at once. A young woman with silky black hair twirling around a field in a crimson dress. A man with white-streaked blond hair smiling at her from the porch of a beautiful house. The woman clutching her throat, the skin turning gray and cracking beneath her palms. A cackling figure in black standing over a red-and-black clad corpse.

Adrien realized with a start that these images were of Ladybug and Chat Noir—not him and Marinette, but others who had possessed the titles. He couldn’t put names to either of them, since he’d never known them, but there was something familiar about the whole thing. The blond man with gray streaks—Chat Noir, he was certain of it—Adrien had seen him somewhere before.

The pictures were still coming: Ladybug darting across rooftops while the other Chat Noir stood in the distance, eyes narrowed; Chat Noir cradling an infant swaddled in an expensive blue blanket with a gold-embroidered “A”; The other Chat Noir chasing after a tall, hulking man, laughing. Adrien didn’t understand what he was seeing. It was like fragments of a greater story, something he thought he recognized. The clenching sensation on his heart, filling him from head to toe with ice, grew painful. His breath came out in a silent puff.

 _Marinette_. He needed Marinette. He wouldn’t be afraid if she stood beside him. Ladybug and Chat Noir had always been together. He protected her. She protected him. There had never been a time when Ladybug and Chat Noir weren’t together. Adrien tried to pull his hands from the doorframe. He needed to call Marinette, now.

And then something seized his hair and yanked his head back. Sharp claws wrapped around his throat. His Adam’s apple throbbed against the feeling of a heavy hand.

 _betrayed her murdered her liar monster bastard you hurt her you abandoned her you need to be punished you don’t deserve to live_ —

The claws raked across his throat. Ice tore through his flesh, burning and frigid at once, and blood poured down his shirt collar. Adrien’s hands flew to his ruined throat and he stumbled back, screaming. He couldn’t stop screaming. His hands were sticky and burning and the ice crept over him and he stood in the center of the pitch black hallway screaming.

The doors to the study banged open, and suddenly the Gorilla was there. Dark shadows marked beneath his eyes, the collar of his shirt unbuttoned. He looked down at Adrien, face a foreign mask of shock, and then grasped him by the shoulders. Adrien twisted in his hold and continued to scream. How could he still manage to do that? Hadn’t his throat been destroyed by claws?

The Gorilla picked him up without effort and hurried him down the hall, away from his room. Adrien kicked and flailed and removed his hands from his neck. If he hadn’t bled out now, when _would_ he? Would he bleed to death in the Gorilla’s arms? Had the claws somehow missed anything vital, and he would survive?

“ _PUT ME DOWN_ ,” Adrien bellowed. “ _Let me go! I deserve to die!_ ”

The Gorilla paused for a moment, then continued to usher Adrien down the hall, quicker than before. Adrien gave up flailing—trying to escape the Gorilla was much like trying to shove his way through a brick wall without his Cataclysm. Adrien collapsed against his chest, heaving with choked sobs, hands clutching uselessly at the front of his bodyguard’s shirt.

The Gorilla marched down the stairs without a sound, holding Adrien tightly around the waist, and moved through the pitch black foyer into the living room.

If any of the staff had heard Adrien’s screaming, they didn’t come running. The Gorilla set Adrien down on the beige couch set dead-center in the room—Adrien’s hands flew back to his throat without his bodyguard to cling to—and flicked on the small lamp beside him.

The sudden flood of light made Adrien wince. He tore his hands away from his throat and looked down to see how bad the bleeding was—and found nothing. His hands were pale and shaking. He felt his neck, taking in several deep breaths, but the flesh below his hands felt smooth and warm. Adrien tried to calm his pounding heart. Had it all just been an illusion?

The Gorilla pointed at him, and Adrien had just enough sense to realize that it was an order for him to stay put.

“Wait—,” Adrien gasped, voice raspy, but the Gorilla disappeared. He sunk back into the couch. The familiar crush of expensive leather beneath him gave him something to ground himself. He was home. There hadn’t been anything chasing him through the halls. His throat wasn’t cut open. He noticed, distractedly, that all the curtains had been left open; he could see the arrangement of streetlamps, outside the gates. Moths fluttered outside the glass.

Nathalie stepped into the living room, looking exhausted. Her dark hair hung in coiled tangles around her shoulders, glasses perched delicately on the bridge of her nose. She wore a light pink silken bathrobe, and Adrien had never seen her like this. She took one look at him—the tears streaming down his cheeks, the lack of color in his face, his trembling lips—and hurried over to his side. Her hands fluttered to his face, cupping his chin and turning him until their eyes locked. “Are you all right, Adrien? What happened?” Her voice was low and raspy with sleep.

“I—” Adrien gasped.

The Gorilla wandered back into the room. He clutched a small, steaming mug in between his huge hands. He took one look at Nathalie, who whirled to gawk at him. “What happened?” she demanded. “Has he been hurt? Should I call—?”

Whatever she was going to say, an ambulance or his father, the Gorilla cut her off with a sharp shake of the head. His eyes flashed, and something passed between them. Nathalie’s shoulders dropped. She nodded her head. “Yes. Very good.” Slowly, rising to her feet, Nathalie placed her hand on Adrien’s cheek and brushed the tears away. She said nothing, but the calm look on her face stilled the tremors rocking through Adrien’s thin shoulders.

Without another word, Nathalie wandered out of the living room. Her shoulder brushed against the Gorilla’s as they passed one another.

The Gorilla came to stand over him, and thrust the mug into Adrien’s trembling hands. He looked down and gave the cup a quick sniff, wrinkling his nose. The concoction within was not tea or even warm milk; it was a thick, dark liquid that burned his nostrils and sent shivers down his spine.

He cast a brief look at the Gorilla, who nodded. Adrien shuddered, taking a deep breath, and downed the cup in one swift gulp. It didn’t taste...awful, but it wasn’t great. He shivered the same way he would if it had been a tablespoon of cough syrup. The explosion of warmth in the pit of his stomach was a blast of comfort; his shoulders dropped.

The Gorilla took the mug back as it began to slip out of his fingertips. “W—what…” Adrien folded his hands on his lap, the sensation in the tips of his fingers slowly returning. “What were you doing...in the study?”

His bodyguard shook his head, clearly emphasizing that it wasn’t important now. Adrien wanted to protest that it _was_ important— _no one_ was allowed inside his father’s study without knocking, and if Gabriel Agreste wasn’t home, there would be _no reason_ for the Gorilla to go inside. But sleep began to call to him, tugging at the backs of his eyes and forcing him to relax into the thick leather of the couch.

The low tick-tock of the expensive grandfather clock set in the corner of the room allowed him to slow his pounding heart and time his breathing. His eyelids began to close, and he could see the Gorilla wandering to the other end of the room with the empty mug.

“Plagg,” Adrien whispered, just as he finally began to fall asleep sitting on the couch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Gorilla step out of the living room, and something small and black darted across the floor toward the couch. The tension in his body vanished with the arrival of his kwami; Adrien collapsed against the couch, head tipped back, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adrien's been going through a rather rough time, especially now that he's been introduced to some odd concepts the other Ladybugs and Chat Noirs had to deal with. There will be more of this explained in the upcoming parts of this series, and you'd better believe he and Marinette will be discussing what has happened.
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter won't take me as long to update. My work schedule will be going back to normal as soon as the holiday season is over. My boss moved me to the night shift, so most of my days have been spent sleeping and working. But I do hope to get back on track with my fan fictions and continue them.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support; you guys are the ones who have allowed me to continue writing as often as I have. Keep being awesome, you guys!

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of "Miscommunication" actually came from a conversation that my roommate and I had a while back. Going off that conversation, I thought it would be an interesting challenge to turn it into a "reveal AU" fic. I have to say, I'm not disappointed.
> 
> I look forward to working more on this story, as well as others in the future. And I am also looking forward to reading more fan fictions from the Miraculous Ladybug fandom. I have just finished reading "Glaze" by KryallaOrchid, and I have to say that it was perhaps one of the best I have ever read. If you have a moment, I recommend checking it out if you haven't already.
> 
> Have a wonderful day, everyone!


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